Perfect
by MercurialNight
Summary: "It is not what you imagined. I am not." She looked up at him, searching, and Drizzt met her eyes with a knowing gaze. "I know it isn't. Nothing can be, though. Reality doesn't know our dreams, and neither would it bend to them if it did."
1. Where Hope Lies

"She lives in a fairy tale somewhere too far for us to find.

Forgotten the taste and smell of a world that she's left behind."

"Hey! Do you have a _problem_?"

The shouting went ignored yet again. The young woman kept her face buried in the book she'd been reading, leaning back in her desk chair. Her silky straight hair, the golden color of wheat, was parted to the side so that it fell over her face, making a curtain to hide her from the world. At least, the entire left side of the world. Andra Riley sat in her seventh period Honors Algebra, having finished her homework early so that she could read. She was three pages away from the last page of the last book in the entire Drizzt series. She would finish today.

For the past ten minutes, the beautiful (in her own mind) teen in the row beside her had been repeating the same things, and until now it'd been easy to ignore. "I _said_, what book is that?" "It's really rude to ignore people you know." "I'm talking to you, stupid!" Just like every day, Brandi the Brat was taking extreme delight in poking her with a long pointy stick.

Finally, it was apparent that she wasn't going to stop any time soon. Andra sighed and looked up at last, flipping back her head to get the hair out of her eyes. She knew what was coming. It didn't hurt a lot anymore—after the first few times she'd learned that if you don't hear the words, they have nothing to hurt you with. The first time she had cried, and the humiliation had never left her. Now Andra never cried. Not in private or public. That was what just they wanted.

She just needed the noise gone so she could read. Three pages left and she needed to know how it all came to its bittersweet end. "What?" she answered curtly.

Brandi let loose a frilly little giggle, a sound maddening beyond reason. Andra fought hard to keep from scowling. "What book is that?" the brat asked, smacking her gum loudly as she talked. She leaned over to try and see over the top of Andy's novel.

"I highly doubt that you care." She started to delve back into the pages, back to her second world.

"Humph, _well_." Brandi flipped out a cell phone, apparently getting another meaningless text from her cheating boyfriend she loved so much. "You're probably right; I've got much better things to do with my time."

Andra suppressed a bitter retort of a rejected outcast.

Suddenly, a new voice joined the limited conversation, the only voice that held the ability to use words like a sword. Andra had trusted her—a faith not lightly placed—not to use them that way. A slight-figured, dark-haired girl turned around in the desk in front of her: Kara. Over the past months she had become closer to Kara than most of the other people she knew—excluding Chase, who served as Andra's big brother and best friend.

Andy looked up, expecting some kind of defense from this, a true friend. What she got instead was, "Andy, really…you should maybe consider giving up those books."

Andra's eyes filled with confusion, suspicion. Had that been buried there all along? "Mhm. Why?"

She exhaled shortly, a sound of impatience. Her eyes rolled in exasperation, the expression of someone who's tired of explaining things to a person who just doesn't understand. "You're jus—It's just weird. You know?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Brandi toss a smug grin in Kara's direction.

Andra said nothing—couldn't if she wanted to. Her first thought was a distinct image of Cattie-brie's face, plastered on top of Kara's face for so long, melting off and falling to pieces on the floor. As soon as the initial horror began to fade, Andra's eyes steeled immediately, shooting repelling 'how-could-you' needles into that suddenly unfamiliar mask. Silent, but roiling inside, she pointedly turned sideways in her seat so that her back was to both of them and dove back into _The Two Swords,_ the bright blonde curtain falling back into place. Her face was hidden; she could have let the tears roll and neither of them would have ever known. She wanted to.

But Andra never cried.

She didn't move the entire remainder of the class. She read fervently and finished the book. The sense of completion and finality at first was tempered, but she came to realize fully the bittersweet fact…There was no more. This was the end of her second—better—world. Her second home. She could hardly believe it ended that way…that it had to end at all…

The bell rang. She gathered her things mechanically and left, pointedly looking at nothing but what she was doing. She didn't look at either Brandi or Kara. She was first out the door.

...

From another face in the endless hoard, a peculiar pair of eyes followed as she wove her way through the flowing crowd of students. The halls were overrun with high school teens all rushing and pushing each other, eager to get the heck home. Some roughhoused while others laughed and talked, and the school echoed with the sounds of dismissal. The main gallery was made up of tall ceilings and giant windows to let in the early-evening sunrays, one huge staircase in the center, and a wide rail-encased square cut into the floor that allowed you to stand on the second floor and look down on the first. Chase Archer—they called him that, at least—had his back propped against the rails lining that decorative hole. His eyes stared out of an angular face and from behind a shaggy mane of blonde-and-brown, shoulder-length hair, which he hadn't tied back today like he normally did. He had one foot propped up behind him on a lower rail and one hand stuck in the pocket of his forest-green jacket. His eyes burrowed intensely on his mark, not once losing track of her.

As she came within earshot, his visage changed. He waved casually in the air and called with a bright tone, "Andy! Over here." She looked up, tossing back her wheat-colored hair, visible relief on her face when she spotted him. She moved agilely through the crowd to get to him.

"Chase," she groaned, plopping her head down on his shoulder. "Ahh, you have no idea how stupid my life is…"

Chase gave a laugh: the sound of sunshine on treetops. "A'right, kid—whose head do I beat in?"

Andra smiled, overwhelmed suddenly. There was yet one comrade in her life who was still steadfast. She told everything about Kara and Brandi, loving the chance to vent. He listened without any sign of boredom or complaint, and when she'd stopped, she felt so much better. Chase was the only cup to her emotional bottle—even he didn't hear the deepest feelings behind her emotional walls, but he knew much more than everyone else. Here was at least one person left in the world she could count on.

She'd known Chase since freshman year, two years ago now, and immediately he had become to her the big brother she'd always wanted but never had. In all of N. Androos High School, maybe in the entirety of her town of Louisville, KY, she had never known a person equal in character. He liked to fight, perhaps too much, really—but he only fought for the right things. He was owner to an air of headstrong nobility and dazzling vibrancy, an unbreakable policy to never cut his hair short (no matter how much his mom griped), and a towering, lithe, muscular frame of 6'4". With a dress of mainly denim jackets and ripped jeans, his coolness was conveyed. It wasn't boasted like peacock feathers, but rather flowed off him effortlessly, like the quiet charm that he didn't even seem to be aware he possessed. The only glitch was that he was a bit off about things; sometimes it was like he didn't know what you were talking about or didn't understand certain normal, everyday actions. Figures of speech confused him, though he adapted well to uncomfortable or awkward situations. It was like he was an extremely adaptive but still a bit lost exchange student from some far-away country (world).

And he had the strangest set of eyes. They were pale purple—lavender. Andy thought of Drizzt Do'Urden every time she caught sight of Chase's eyes. But she would have to avoid that now, after what just happened to her last real-life storybook character.

When she had finished, Chase shook his head in empathy, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. The oddity of the action apparently was lost on him, "Some aren't what they first appear to be. Sometimes they don't live up to the grandeur we build around them." There was another thing: he talked strangely. Like he was from poetic England or a well-written novel. He was a pleasing sort of strange.

Andy smiled, her eyes filled with intense gratitude. But she couldn't bring herself to express any spoken feeling…she couldn't say, "Thank you, thank you, oh please Chase don't ever change." All she could offer in reply was her famous universal answer: "Yeah."

They parted, Chase clapping her on the back with a reassuring, "Chin up, kid. See you around." She liked when he called her "kid;" it made her feel like his sister. She said goodbye and started away, trudging down the gallery stairs. A few steps down, though, she remembered something she'd wanted to ask him about History class, and turned back around with her mouth already forming a shout.

Chase was nowhere to be seen.

Andy glanced around, brows furrowed in confusion. But she simply shook her head with a small shrug and turned back down the stairs, hoping the bus driver hadn't taken off yet. Buses around here were like planes: they do not wait.

...

From around the corner of the now-emptying hallway, Chase's lavender eyes still followed her every movement. Without taking his locked eyes away, he dropped a hand inside his oversized, forest-green jacket, fingers tracing the flawless contours of an onyx figurine hidden within.

She was finished. She was ready.

"I'm more than a bird; I'm more than a plane.

I'm more than some pretty face beside a train,

And it's not easy…to be…me."

Her bedroom door slammed open so hard it rattled the mirror hanging on her wall. She didn't even stop to see if anyone had heard and come running. If they had, they'd have gotten a door slammed in their face; Andra whirled around and kicked it closed. But she had to drop her armload of school-junk and pinwheel her arms to keep from falling, like some kind of idiot cartoon. Andra scowled. The rest of her junk went flying from her hands as she flung her jacket and bag across the room. It didn't matter. Who the heck cared—and why should they?

With hot, angry movements she bent and jerked off her shoes, one arm propped on the desk. One blue Chuck Taylor spun through the air, shoelaces flying wild, and was followed by its partner. One toppled the wastebasket in the corner, while the other sailed straight for her precariously hung mirror. Andy looked up in alarm as the shoe slammed into the defenseless glass. Reflexively she gasped, holding her fists up in front of her as if she could counteract gravity. It hit the floor in slow-motion, wooden frame splintering, an ugly crack slithering right through the center of the glass.

Andra's arms fell limp at her sides. She closed her eyes as a shuddering sigh escaped her, and with it, all the heated motion dispersing into thinner air, as the fluttering papers from her notebooks settled quietly on the carpet. Her eyes stung with warm tears. She screwed them shut tighter, but aside from that and her slow panting, didn't move for several moments.

So ends another wonderful day in the beautiful life of Andra Riley.

She could ignore the paper-wads and prissy giggles and shoulder-bumps in the hallway. "Anti-social," she could ignore that. "Fantasy nerd," she could usually ignore that. Because she knew that people like Brandi were pointless and negligible. It was the Karas of the world that mattered. But not even she was constant. Not even she could resist the hollow, temporary fame that came with the shiny popularity of the Brandis of the world. There were no heroes. Somewhere else, maybe, but not in her tiny corner of the world.

Where was the nobility? The strength, the ideals? Loyalty—whatever happened to that? Meanwhile she was still waiting for the renowned triumph of the oppressed.

Finally, Andra drew in a slow, deep breath and sighed, bending over to start the cleaning process. Her fingers closed softly on her jacket first, lifting it out from under a Calculus textbook that flipped over with a soft and ignored thud. Childish. Tossing junk around the room like a stupid brat… Stupid. But okay, whatever. She'd be a big girl and clean up after her tantrum.

Stupid shoe. Stupid mirror. Stupid Andra.

She spotted something on the ground and her eyes softened. "Oh!" she whispered, dropping to her knees to retrieve the paperback from where it lay open on the floor. She stood as she straightened out the bent pages. She hadn't meant to do that… Andy closed the book, caressing the front cover as her eyes stared at the cover art depicting the lone drow ranger surrounded by a hoard of snarling orcs. She produced a broken smile. The last book in the Drizzt saga—she'd finished it just today.

Why couldn't life be like that? There, loyalty was never broken. Adventure, heroics, triumph against impossible odds… Love. Friendship. Unbreakable bonds of it. And no one ever left you to fight alone.

Exhaling again, she placed the novel on her bedside table. 'It's alright—It will be,' she thought to herself as she went to the window beside her bed. She needed crisp, cold night air and the serenity of starlight. She thought of Faerun. She thought of the Companions of the Hall. She thought of Drizzt and Guenhwyvar as she flung back the curtain.

The view outside she knew to be of her trailer park—the street in front, the neighbor's yard beyond, a rigged ball goal attached to the side of the same neighbors' single-wide trailer—was almost entirely obscured in calm, clear night. And how easy it was to imagine a face of pitch-black skin painted seamlessly somewhere out in that moonless dream.

...

She stayed at the window until time demanded she get her Algebra homework done. She had to retrieve her book and papers from the lingering meson the floor, then sat down with them at her desk. The question she'd wanted to ask Chase was about which page they were supposed to do, but when she opened her book, she saw to her relief that she'd written it down. It didn't take more than a half hour—an excruciatingly long half-hour—and she was done. She glanced at the TV, decided it couldn't compare to some good book, but then remembered that she was all out of book. She sighed and simply returned to the widow, crawling onto her bed, which was directly underneath the portal. She stood on her knees and reached for the curtain.

And suddenly she froze, fingers loosely curled around the curtain's soft fabric. There was a sound from somewhere behind the window. It was like a pulsing hum of vibration, but quite unlike the metallic sound made by the air conditioning unit that sat just outside her window. Finally she recognized it; it sounded very much like the purring of a great cat. But it was so low and deliberate it may have been growling, either. The thought to fear didn't even cross Andy's mind—there was only curiosity. Without hesitation (she wasn't aware of any reason to hesitate!) she pulled back the thick brown curtain.

A brilliant pair of red eyes glowed back at her from the veil of dark.

Shock jolted her like a lightning bolt and she fell back with a shout, all pretense of balance gone with the wind. The curtain fell back into place; the two points of red disappeared behind it. Andra half-lay on the bed, heart thrumming ecstatically, eyes locked on the still-swaying curtain. Her chest rose and fell with electrified breath.

There came from somewhere outside a new sound, like someone scraping a fork against a plastic milk jug. She recognized this one immediately. Her dog made that sound when he saw her through the window—he would jump up on his hind legs with his paws against the side of the house to see inside. He would look in, and as his nose strove vainly to poke through the window screen, his claws would make that noise against the trailer's siding. Claws on plastic underpinning—and her dog was inside for the night.

Andra exploded to motion quicker than a gunshot, scrambling forward to tear aside the curtain again. The sight surprised her even the second time, even though she'd been hoping to see exactly this: the eyes still there, still staring with intense wisdom into her own amber orbs. They locked on her face, pupils no more than vertical slits cut through those softly glowing rubies. They glowed with knowledge as well as red light. The scratching, patterned and rhythmic, stopped. It had her attention. The eyes locked her into a stare—hers of blankness, theirs of depth. Hers of searching, theirs of insight. She spent several long moments just trying to discern the gravity portrayed there.

The points of light disappeared under black eyelids, and with them, the profound stare. Andra blinked, whimpered in disappointment, and leaned forwards with her hands on the sill. Her eyes flicked across the wall of blackness, but the glare from her overhead light made it impossible to see anything outside. With an annoyed grunt, she searched around for a moment and picked up the nearest throwable object—the shoe from her earlier tantrum—and then chucked it at the light switch across her room. Never mind that walking over and flipping the switch would've been much simpler.

Darkness now enveloping her, she focused again on the world outside. The eyes had returned. They'd moved away, it looked like, five or so feet. But even from the distance she could read that knowing, hard stare: a gaze that silently called for her to "Follow," implying that there was hidden somewhere a legit reason she didn't yet understand.

Andy glanced back toward her bedroom door, chewing her lip. What was happening to her mind? If she was finally losing her "tentative grip on reality," probably she should go tell her parents. And she should especially tell them if there truly was some red-eyed looney-bird creeper lurking around outside her bedroom window.

…But that's not what happened in the books. How often she had dreamed for something this exciting, this perfect. Something like this, so impossible, by its very nature _became_ possible, because it defied all reality. Redefining possible. Heh…that was a good one. She should make a Flair.

She glanced back to the window—her faceless friend was still there. That was reassuring; if she was crazy, the vision should be gone by now. Andra looked back toward her door in a final moment of indecision. It was then she realized that explaining such a marvelous occurrence to her mother was even less possible than its actual occurring. And what would she say? "Good heavens, Andra, I always knew something was wrong with you! Now think of all the money I'll have to spend on therapy and medicine and gripe-gripe blah-blah all-about-me…" Yes. That would be infinitely more frightening than any threat of demon stalkers or impending madness.

Andra glared coldly at her bedroom door, turned defiantly to the window, and snapped it open wide.

"Her eyes: that's where hope lies.

That's where blue skies meet the sunrise."

The chill of the night or the thrill of excitement—she couldn't separate the two. Her slip-on shoes grinded dead leaves into the cold concrete of her street's sidewalk, the sound going with her through her progress through autumn's night. She followed the eyes. Most of the time they were turned forward, but every so often they would turn back, as if to let Andra know where her guide was. For she certainly couldn't see them. She got clues, though: the eyes bobbed low to the ground, at the height of a little person or a child or some large animal. The footsteps ahead of her were all but silent, but from what she made of them, they doubled themselves—like there were four feet padding along in very soft shoes. Andy waited with growing impatience for her guide to speak or act or at least show themselves, but there was nothing. It was as is she were following the night itself.

As her unseen guide led her along the dark street, the thought that entered her mind was not a question to her own sanity, as would be the normal thought. She'd already decided that if she was going crazy, she was going to arrive with a bang. Rationalism still prevailed, though, as she grew aware of how extremely vulnerable she was out here. There were no streetlights lit, which was out of place and alarming. Would her guide protect her in the event that some night-thug mugger or serial killer appeared? She didn't exactly live in Eldorado; her neighborhood was more than a bit "rowdy," as her mother put it. But generally, the peace-disturbers only hung around the streetlights. Maybe the darkness was her ally.

Unexpected and random, there came an animalistic growl developing from out the nighttime noises. Andra's heart somersaulted again and she froze, head snapping to the left, seeking with widening eyes. The moon and streetlamps had deserted her tonight, but her eyes had adjusted enough to make out the form of a very un-friendly looking dog, advancing on her slowly. She never might have seen it, were it not bright white. It tamped down its muscles, growling maliciously, and stalked toward her as a fox corners a hare. Realization dawned: this was her evil neighbors' horrible beast-pet. They lived at the end of the street and owned the single most abused, vicious mutt on the planet, which attacked anyone who came near. They had to chain him during the day, but (contrary to many important laws) let him loose at night to defend against burglars or family enemies and the like. It was practically Obould in a dog shape.

And its sights were fixed on her.

Andy backed away slowly, hands shakily patting the air as she made pathetic attempts to call to it—"Shh, boy…No, c'mon buddy, down boy…" Her mind drained of all thoughts but terror, drained like the color from her face, as the beast advanced and she realized she was through. Nothing to be done…What a stupid way to die. What kind of an idiot was she? Coming out in _her_ neighborhood in the middle of the night to chase imaginary eyes…

But she had been chosen…she was chosen because she was the perfect one for the journey. It had to be real…

The dog crouched. Snarled. Twitched its flank muscles in the very last split-second of preparation. Andra knew what came next. She had just enough time to throw her arms over her face and scream—and the monster leapt forward.

A feline yowl. Unheard paws bounding from out the blackness. The unseen spring that followed.

A huge black mass was suddenly there, shooting at the dog in a mid-air tackle and sweeping the white beast away. Andy fell backwards anyway, landing flat on her back and scraping herself on the blacktop. There was pain, but her attention was wholly focused on the fantastic, savage battle now erupting before her. Another wondrous cat-like snarl split through the dog's stupid, feral barking. And against the white background of the dog's form, Andy's eyes snatched some frantic, fleeting glimpses of her rescuer. She could hardly believe the picture her mind put together as a result.

It looked like—certainly sounded like—a great black cat.

Andra would have stared like that until the savage fight was done (which actually wouldn't have taken three minutes, tops), except her attention was drawn away in the opposite direction. A light was emerging. At first she thought it was the streetlamps finally turning on, but then she realized that it wasn't that bright…wasn't even electricity. It was…that was a flippin _torch_! A bone-fide genuine _torch_, like made out of animal fat and leather or some craziness. And as the light drew closer, its extraordinary bearer was fully illuminated.

With her eyes cast upward, she hardly noticed things as believable as pain, her frantic heartbeat, or the adrenaline rushing like waterfalls over her ears. Those were all reality. The sight before her eyes clearly was not.

Out of the darkness, as out of another world, stepped a figure so graceful he could have been a shade. It was a creature of darkest elegance, with a shaggy mane of stark silver framing a face of black skin. Not the rich brown of an African American; his skin was the color of tar at midnight under a sky with no moon. All the strength left Andra's limbs and a look of the utmost confusion and disbelief screwed up her face. A bird could have nested quite comfortably in her gaping mouth.

"Apologies, my Cosain.* Are you alright?" The shadow spoke, and his voice was like a crystalline stream flowing through some dim, cool forest. A charcoal hand extended toward her, but robotic Andra only stared at it dumbly. He—it?—kneeled gently and spoke again, a reassuring smile on his lips and in his voice. "It's alright. I hardly came all this way to hurt you."

Was he…? _Could_ he…? It was utterly impossible—was she finally crazy? They all joked about it. Told her if she didn't quit reading all those crazy books of hers they would start to come to life in her mind. Were they right? Had R. A. Salvatore taken over her brain?

The strange dream offered a crooked smile, teeth shining ivory in contrast to his gray lips. The hand was still extended, palm-up like he was trying to coax a scared rabbit from its hole. "Please believe I know how surprised you must be. But, for a different reason than that which usually shocks the people I meet." He ended with a nervous chuckle—a fail at easing the awkward. Andy didn't notice, of course.

The eyes…the eyes were the tell. The forest green cloak—easily coincidental. The twin sheaths belted at his sides—simple duplicates; she had a pair of her own mounted on her wall. The skin and hair—not uncommon for his…race…Oh come on! There wasn't any other race of sentinent beings in her world but humans. No physical ones, at least. Humans, and unseen ones like angels and God, but no dwarves or elves or centaurs, and _certainly no drow_.

But the eyes…

It was impossible...which is exactly the kind of adjective that always fails where Drizzt Do'Urden is concerned.

She didn't even know what she was doing—maybe she was just trying to find out if he was a mirage or something she could touch. Her hand moved on its own. Her fingers hovered over his for a moment—he didn't rush her or move himself—and then she snatched up his hand…which did not disperse like smoke or dissolve in any way. He was real. He was touchable. The color, the outside appearance, was foreign and not understood…but the feeling was the same. If she shut her eyes it would be like holding the hand of a human. He was just like her, but for her sight.

He pulled her to her feet as she gaped blankly at his extraordinary face. The action made her shiver against the cold. She hadn't noticed it before beyond a nagging something that lingered at the edge of her mind. The _apparition_ of a dark elf didn't miss her slight tremble. He frowned and reached up to pull his forest-green cloak from his shoulders. "Why did you come dressed as for a summer night's stroll? It is the middle of autumn as well as the middle of the night." He swept the cloak around her shoulders and she grasped it, hugging it to her. It felt like the fabric of adventure and smelled like crushed pine needles.

After a moment of unsure silence, a knowing grin spread across Andy's face. "Ohh-kay, a'right, I get it. Nice. Freakin awesome. Who is it under there?"

The "drow" gained some confusion of his own.

"Well come on now!" Andra chuckled bitterly, as one would laugh after finding out the horrible monster under your bed was a simple dormouse. "Who is it—Chase? Chase Archer, you big ole evil weasel… Whatdja do, roll yourself in coal dust? stage makeup? color yourself with Sharpie?"

Understanding crossed over his dark face, like he'd been expecting something akin to her reaction. He shook his head. "No. I am Dr—"

"_No!_ Huh-uh, no, no you're not!. Nope. I am not crazy and you are not real. No." She looked away, closed her eyes, rubbed her fists in her eye sockets, and yet he was still there when she looked back. She grew quiet and scared.

A comforting smile parted those gray lips, and he spoke again in that foreign language of Fantasy. "I am Drizzt Do'Urden. I do exist in your reality—at least as far as I can tell. And I should think I would be very sure of that, given the time I've spent here."

Dumbfounded, the only thing she could think to say sounded lame and weak to her ears. "What…whassat mean..?"

He didn't hide his slight smile at her composure, which was very much akin to that of a small child discovering a purple rabbit or some such oddity. But he didn't point this out or laugh at her—he simply explained:

"I have been your guardian, Andra."

* * *

*Here, the word is used as a nickname. "Cosain" is the Gaelic word for "defend." Pronounciation: [COH-sayn]

*Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or the contents of any Forgotten Realms novel. The only character that belongs to me is Andra Riley. All other worlds and characters belong to R. A. Salvatore, that epic genius…

*Disclaimer: The lyrics in the heading aren't mine either. They are excerpts from the following songs (in order): 'Brick by Boring Brick' by Paramore; 'Superman' by Five for Fighting; 'Her Eyes' by Pat Monahan


	2. She Would Change Everything

"I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.

I know, right now you can't tell.

But stay a while and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me."

The persistent thought entered her mind that it must be either a trick or a dream. She didn't want to know if it was. It had to be real—oh, she wanted it to be, and she'd longed of it so often... See, but, only children believed in pixies and elves (dark elves=no exception). Children and the insane. She had always denied the looming fact of her childishness, and she openly refused the idea that she was insane. And it was too thorough to be a prank.

One option left.

She had briefly thought to call for help, but now that notion died away. That just wasn't what you did when your fantasies came true. Instead, she let her mind briefly entertain the notion that this _could_ be happening. And it was magnificent.

A smile of utmost ecstasy graced her face—she put her fists to her mouth like some child beholding her first Christmas. But as she slowly faded, the delighted fire in her eyes dimming into those same tired embers the years had reduced them to. She became more like a prisoner beholding the key to her cell. The drow seemed startled and wary, as if he would back away; he didn't understand the intensity of her reaction, or the timing maybe. She was screwing it up—she had to save herself.

"If...If I say I believe you…" she stuttered, grabbing at any lifeline that was there, "What happens then?" If this was just a trick, she had just made the joke infinitely more hilarious. Two sides to every coin; if it was real, she had to save it.

All doubt was swept away when Drizzt smiled. And he smiled not with mockery, but relief. "I would explain as we travel."

She didn't ask any of the normal questions. Not "What do you mean?" or "Travel where?" or "Who the heck _are_ you, psychopath!" She only set her jaw determinedly like a grand young hero and quoted a perfect storybook line. "What do I need to do?" The kid looked like she oughta be snapping a salute.

Drizzt's face became serious…and disapproving? He answered curtly, "Pack. I'll tell you what."

….

Andy's poor room just couldn't get a break. First the mess on the floor, the cracked mirror, and now the utmost havoc being wreaked by the Tazmanian Devil that lived there. Andra's window remained open, soft night wind teasing at her curtain, while inside she tore through her room like a madwoman. Clothes flew haphazardly, followed by shoes and the like, followed by other random anythings that got in her way. Drawers and closet door stood open, and a half-full duffle bag lay ready and waiting on her bed. Andra spun between these three, searching for whatever the voice at the window instructed her.

"Warm clothes. It's very cold there even in autumn, which we'll surely have to travel through."

"Warm—right…" She dove back into her closet and yanked out three hoodies and a jacket. She had to stuff them into the bag on top of everything else that was already in there. They took up nearly all the space.

"One less; you need more space." Andra nodded and tore free one hoodie, tossing it who-knows-where over her shoulder. She had to leave the room for a few things—a sleeping bag, for one (Drizzt called it a bedroll), but her parents were asleep so she ran into no conflict with them. At last, the bag was filled, and she was prepared for at most week's journey, gypsy-style. She didn't even think to ask why they couldn't stop at hotels or something. Because of course they couldn't be traveling the streets and cities of her world.

Standing outside her window, Drizzt nodded as she slung the single strap across her chest. "You are ready?"

"Completely," Andy nodded anxiously. Next came the leaving—she was eager for it.

"Have everything you need?"

"All over it."

Drizzt nodded. "Then we go."

A thrill of nervous excitement slithered through her. She immediately moved to follow as he started away, eyes eager and excited. But halfway through the window, she froze. Once more, her eyes shifted to her bedroom door. Was she sure…? She was leaving everything, and for what? She had no idea. Ugh, but this _place_...oh, this place, it was _horrible_. All the horrible people with thier lies and power-struggles and popularity contests...a black world of betrayal. Compared to Faerun...beautiiful, orc-infested Farun. There was a clear line between the goodly races and the evil ones. Corruption was nicely contained within goblins and orcs and the like, with elves and dwarves and _their _like ifghting triumphantly againast them. Humans were a complication, of course; it was never sure of what side they were on. Thier own side, she supposed. But they were almost never dealth with, too busy building their empires in Nesme or other human towns. Any human who ventured to mingle to otehr races was usually one of better fccharacter than his kin. Yes, Andra thought. Even with its flaws...Fearun was a paradise.

But why did he want her? Why was she chosen—what would she have to do?…It didn't matter. She would do anything for Drizzt Do'Urden-a childish sentiment, but one she couln't deny or escape. Surely if he needed her, it was for a just and worthy cause. Her…out of all the people better than she. She was different. And Drizzt had asked her to travel alongside him. How was she even _thinking_ of not saying yes? Andra grinned and squeezed out the window, nearly getting stuck with the bulging bag across her back.

She stumbled as she hit the ground, but a hand grabbed her by the duffle bag and held her upright. She looked up and saw nearly nothing except his two purple-glowing eyes. She wondered why Guenwhyvar's eyes had been red, the color of evil eyes—but then she remembered that infravision was red. But she had thought Guen had natural night vision, like all big cats. Weird. She looked around and didn't see those red eyes, but she had no doubt that the panther wasn't far.

Drizzt moved away again, tapping her shoulder to tell her to follow. She hurried to obey, sticking close behind. If he moved too far ahead, she would lose him. Without another word he led them down the street, the same way she had followed Guenhwyvar not ten minutes earlier. She was better equipped for the cold this time, with a thick pullover hoodie and tennis shoes. It was the only pair she owned and they were new; usually she wore Converse, but those definitely would not be good for walking long distance.

They walked soundlessly along the deserted sidewalk, leaves crunching beneath boot, paw, and tennis shoe. Andra looked up and saw that the street lights still weren't lit. It didn't scare her—nothing could scare her with her new escort at her side—but it confused her still. But then the answer came to her clearly. She smiled and asked in the darkness, "Globes of darkness on the streetlights?"

His lavender eyes glanced back for a moment, then bobbed as if his head were nodding. "That they are."

"I thought you could only do one at a time?"

His profound eyes stayed on her for an uncomfortable moment—uncomfort that Andra rejected. What was he looking at so coldly? It wasn't like him. Finally he broke the stare by turning forward. "Mm. Robert's facts were limited to his literature. He needed to set limits on my abilities to heighten the suspense of battles. One can't blame him entirely; it was a lot of information and responsibility to cope with, though we gave it to him gradually as possible."

Andy was sent back into silence. Robert…R.A. Salvatore? Of course…she hadn't thought about where the author fit into all of this. She'd not thought at all about _how_ Drizzt was real, only if he was. But that last comment was strange. Shouldn't it be the other way around? What information was there that the author, the creator, didn't have?

Andy cocked her head to the side, brow furrowed like a child looking at a puzzle. "But he's a writer, not a scribe."

Drizzt turned back again and the girl's attention flocked to his eyes. Their soft purple glow illuminated a wry smile; he couldn't keep it away. She was too endearing. She was a fox pup guilelessly sticking her nose into a badger hole—just you try looking at that without smiling. Drizzt didn't answer, other than to place a hand briefly on her back and guide her into a left turn; they'd reached the end of another street. "This way," he explained gently. Andra bit her lip to keep it from forming an ecstatic grin. He was happy with her for whatever reason and she didn't dare spoil it by being a fangirl.

Drizzt glanced at her sidelong, suddenly experiencing a peculiar sadness for the child. His Cosain… No doubt she expected to find something wonderful down that badger hole.

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. He led her away from the houses, out to the very edge of the expansive trailer park where the empty lots were. Nobody came out here. As they went, she noticed that the streetlights behind them suddenly blinked back into existence after she and Drizzt were out of their range. She felt a thrill as she realized that they were traveling undercover. After a while she forgot the lights and turned her attention back to Drizzt, watching his back to keep from falling behind. Wait…where was he? For a moment she almost panicked, eyes wide in terror. But then there was a movement ahead, something like a shadow moving among shadows. She breathed a sigh of relief and ran a few steps to catch up.

She nearly ran right into his back. Surprised, Andy jerked back and uttered a small inquisitive sound and looked up at him, her bright eyes wide and curious. By way of explanation, he motioned for her to stay, then dispersed into the shadows like a drop of water into a sea.

Andra stood there for many moments, glancing all about her, but daring not to move. The night noises swirled around her, but there was no sound to hint that she wasn't completely alone. The barely audible padding of Guen's paws had disappeared altogether. No leaves crunched under the heel of a boot. She was sure she'd been standing there at least five minutes. Ten? More? Where was he already! Minutes more passed. No sign. Andra's breathing quickened. She called out in a whisper, "…Drizzt?" No answer. _He…he left me here…_

Crushing despair fell on her out of nowhere. He had never been there. She was standing alone on the outskirts of her trailer park, in the middle of the night, because of an imaginary apparition. Andra barely stifled an angry cry, producing a kind of furious, strangled growl instead. But he had been there, right in front of her…and his hand, it was tangible… He was _there_! Her fingers curled into talons as she fought an onslaught of tears, squeezing her eyes shut tight as her throat constricted with sobs. She was finally crazy. Hopeless and stupid. Alone.

There were no heroes.

"Cosain?" Andy gasped and snapped her head up, actually jerking with fright. Drizzt was walking towards her. She couldn't see his face clearly, but it looked concerned. She stared at him in wondrous, blank shock, holding her hands to her heart, looking like some kind of anime girl.

"What is it?" He asked, confused, concerned, and in the dark. He hated not knowing what was going on. And, _magga cammara_, why was she _looking_ at him like that? It was like she was drowning and she imagined that he had the only lifesaver. He shook his head and grabbed her by the shoulders, insisting, "Andra, _what_?"

"What…what does Cosain mean?" she answered timidly, her voice trembling as if it would break. Her desperate eyes were rimmed with wetness.

Drizzt's hands loosened on her shoulders, then fell away. He shook his head, nearly an imperceptible movement, and huffed a sigh. He didn't know weather to be relieved or annoyed. After all this time, he still hadn't figured out the mystery of this kid. "It means 'defend.'"

"Oh…Because you're my guardian?"

"…I suppose that can be why. At this time."

Andy didn't understand, but she didn't have a chance to question. She hadn't noticed before (quite understandably), but now, there was no overlooking the huge, beautiful black stallion that stood pawing the ground. Its reins were looped around Drizzt's fingers.

She let him help her onto the magnificent horse. It—no, he; it was far more appropriate to call him a he—he nickered softly as she settled into the saddle. She stroked a hand along his sleek, corded neck, feeling his serene power coursing under her fingers. She smiled lightly. Drizzt mounted behind her, swinging effortlessly into the saddle. His feet immediately found the stirrups as if they were attracted to his boots by a magnet. Drizzt called to Guenwhyvar over his shoulder, sending her back to her Astral home. The purple mist rose to the air a short distance away. Andy bit her lip, the happiness returning tenfold, as Drizzt clicked his tongue and kicked the horse forward.

"She would trade everything for happy-

Ever-after.

Caught in the in-between, a beautiful

Disaster.

She just wants someone to take her home."

She had fallen asleep not three hours after they started out. Charon went on, never walking above a trot. Drizzt was starting them off at an easy pace. She'd never ridden before, at least not as long as he'd "known" her, so they'd better start off slow. He probably shouldn't let her sleep through the entire journey. They would pass between the worlds just as dawn broke, and she needed to see the path. He glanced down at the top of her head, peacefully reclining on his shoulder, bobbing side-to-side with Charon's walk. His eyes were hard at first, but gradually softened and become piteous. It was maddening how delusional she was, assuming she knew all there was to know about him—his world, his self…his character. But she would learn in time.

He would have to teach her—to fix all that she thought she knew. She had the basic outline; Robert had gotten all the major facts right. But here and there details had been forgotten or altered. Some details were added to the story but never really there. But it wasn't completely Salvatore's fault. It wasn't just that he was human—you couldn't expect _any_ race to be perfect, including humans. It was a large assignment…very much unlike Andra, Robert had reacted like any rational human being would if a mythical creature suddenly appeared in their one-race world.

But they needed this vibrant dreamy-headed wonder of a girl, and they needed her to know the entire truth of their world. The others would help him, but the others hadn't been given the title of Guardian. Drizzt grimaced at the word. How did they expect so much of him? Wulfgar was better suited. Bruenor was _far_ better suited. Drizzt knew nothing about the hormones of young teenage girls. He'd never witnessed what humans call puberty, but the way they spoke of it was remarkably similar to the way demons describe the fourth layer of the Nine Hells. Hopefully she'd already endured that phase.

More to the point, reforming her mind was going to take forever…and he wasn't even sure he could bring himself to do it right. And was it ethical?

But they had plenty of time. She had read so fast that she'd practically burned through Robert's books. Thinking about that series, Drizzt inwardly groaned. That was all she knew about them…there was so much she had to learn. And she wouldn't be willing. At first she would—she would do anything he asked her to, the poor child. But when she found out how real it all was… Rationale would prompt her to fear. She would begin to think about her life before, about her own choices and the path she must travel. Would she be angry? ...Yes, most likely. At him. Right now, she would never dream of ever being angry at him. But she would learn that it wasn't as impossible as she believed.

Drizzt was pulled from his thoughts as the girl stirred, slowly waking up. He realized that the sky had gradually grown brighter, tints of pale bronze lining the low clouds as the sun made its way over the trees.

"Morning, Glory." Drizzt greeted quietly. He chuckled at her protesting groan. Her head lolled groggily to the side and she buried her face into his cloak. Hesitating for a moment, he took her by the shoulder and shook it to stop her from fading back into sleep. "Awake, Cosain. You can't sleep through this. You have to see which way we go."

She squinted against the light, raising her head to look around, and mumbled a reply. "Oh…We're headed where, now?"

"You already know."

"Yeah. Tell me anyway."

Drizzt couldn't help but smile. "Mithral Hall."

At that, she craned her neck towards him just long enough to cast forth a smile that beamed pure and bright like the sun. She looked up at him with those bright, joyous, unseasoned eyes, and Drizzt suddenly wished she didn't ever have to see what a badger was really like.

_My Cosain…_ he thought, and winced behind her back.

….

The R. Tozier Park was one of the most beautiful in all of Louisville—and one of the least visited. Actually, it was probably so beautiful _because_ it was so deserted. By humans. Now, the birds, squirrels, and plants had free reign over the reclaimed patch of nature. Benches and trash cans had long previous been overtaken by weeds and ivy, and every stone structure was touched by flowering moss. The dark concrete paths were cracked and disintegrating, with some gone altogether. It was all resting peacefully in the slight hours of early morning, draped in a shroud of cool pre-dawn dimness.

Charon's hooves sank into the thick carpet of grass, leaving tracks in the dew. Drizzt held him at a slow walk, in no hurry. They would reach the doorway soon, and there was still plenty of time. He would have to tell her soon. She wouldn't understand, of course. Not completely, not yet. And…she had to make her choice.

Drizzt had tried to avoid thinking about this part. It had to be Andra's choice, her decision between two lives. But she had lived this first life for years, knew it inside and out—or at least she thought she did. The one he offered was full of wondrous unknowns and shiny new promise. A fresh life in a world of her dreams… But did she dream of war? She dreamed of victory over evil and camaraderie that triumphed against impossible darkness. She knew nothing of the means to get there. And she was delusional as a child—how could she possibly choose rationally?

Drizzt shook his head and blew a sigh, running one hand through his white mane of hair. Why couldn't anything be certain? Why must he have to puzzle it all out?

They passed the centerpiece of the park. The gray old fountain no longer ran with flowing water, but it was beautiful all the same. It was just light enough to make out the cracked-stone relic, leafy vines of ivy creeping up its sides, moss overcoming a center statue of rearing horses. When he reached it, Drizzt turned Charon's reins left, avoiding the crumbling path to make it easier on the horse. Not far now. Andra looked around at everything with a quiet kind of peace, taking it all into her obscure mind.

"Drizzt?" She said suddenly, still looking off into space as she spoke.

"Mm," he grunted a soft reply. His thoughts weren't exactly grounded either.

"How long have you….existed?"

"Three decades. You have read as much."

"No—not how old are _you_. I mean…" she paused, hitting a speech block. A line formed between her eyebrows—the annoyance crease.

"You mean how long Faerun has existed. And you probably want to know why your world and ours have remained separate."

"Yeah." The universal answer.

Drizzt paused for a long moment, and Andra looked up anxiously. But he eventually answered, "You've read of extra-dimensional travel. Other planes of existence."

Andy nodded. "Guen lives in one."

"Yes. My world and yours simply exist on different planes. Matter is not changed, but the laws of physics are. It is why we can enact what you call magic. On this plane, magic is rendered useless." When she opened her mouth, already forming a new question, Drizzt anticipated it. "The only reason I can still use darkness globes is because it is not magic, but an innate racial ability. The same goes for infrared and night vision."

"Then…Guen's summoning doesn't use magic. And her eyes are infrared?"

Drizzt looked down at her, wearing a small smile. She was sharp, for all her outer-layers of ignorance. "Exactly…She uses an extra-planar tunnel. It works between planes that have dimensions in common. And no...red is Guenhwyvar's natural eye color."

Andra smiled in brief delight at having gotten the first assumption right, but upon the second part the ltitle crease returned to her brow. "So…how do you…"

Drizzt turned his attention back to the path ahead. "I am showing you that. Tunnels aren't limited to use by only Astral creatures. "

Andra fell silent, watching the path, resigned to waiting. Why did they have to be going so slow? What was he waiting on? But she wouldn't ask, of course. Patience…she would have to bear forcing patience on herself.

The broken path beside them suddenly stopped, and so did Charon. Andra glanced around, not seeing anything remarkable. But Drizzt was dismounting anyway. He swung down in one graceful movement and landed knee-deep in weeds. Wincing, he stretched the stiffness out of his arms, rolling his shoulders. He started away, moving across the small clearing towards some metal thing hidden in the underbrush.

Andra looked down uncertainly at the horse. Ok. She could dismount with no help. It was a basic function, performable my any ordinary idiot. She stuck her feet in the stirrups, stood, swung her left leg free and over the saddle. Home free; she leaned backwards and hopped down. But instead of slipping from the right stirrup as she jumped, her foot just decided it was going to be a jerk or something; it got stuck.

"Ohgeeze—!" Andy cut herself off with a startled yelp, toppling backwards helplessly as Charon whinnied and backed away. She landed flat on her back, disappearing in a sea of weeds. An annoyed groan followed.

Drizzt looked back when he heard the small commotion. He stood from his kneeling position beside the ivy-covered statue and jogged back to the horse. Andra glanced up and saw him standing over her, gaping a little and shaking his head in disbelief. "Kay…_not_ my fault," Andy corrected, pointing at him for emphasis.

He closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ah, _magga cammara_…"

He grabbed her pointing hand and pulled her upright. Dew and wet grass clung to her. Andy shook her shoulders and tried to brush herself off while she followed close behind Drizzt. "Ok. Sorry. Why are we here?"

"I told you I was showing you how I travel between our worlds." He had reached the object he'd been kneeling over earlier and crouched down beside it again. Pulling back the curtain of weeds and ivy, he looked back at her and half-smiled. "Wull there it is."

Andy tilted her head and squinted, trying to get a better look. It was an ornate statue of iron, worn with time and weather. It was a two-foot high likeness of…of… Andra's face broke into an incredulous smile. "No way." She looked to Drizzt, who only kept his smile and nodded. Andra gave a delighted laugh. It was a bust of R. A. Salvatore.

Drizzt placed a hand on top of the statue's head, closing his eyes. Andra looked on eagerly, expecting some sort of mystical experience, expecting Drizzt to utter some magical incantation in a foreign tongue or something of the sort. But then his eyes opened and his fingers pressed down. A quarter-sized circle gave way, sinking down into the sculpture with an ancient grinding sound. Drizzt took his hand away and the circle raised, this time sliding up until it projected from the rest of the sculpture, like a button.

"There," Drizzt announced quietly, standing up. He walked back to stand beside her. "You have only to touch it. The portal will open and bring us all through."

Andra glanced at him briefly, then to the statue, and moved forward with her arm reaching for the button.

Drizzt held her back, gripping her by the arm. Andra turned to him, confused, and was shocked to see the grave intensity of his expression.

His eyes burrowed into hers relentlessly, causing her to warily lean away. He didn't let go. "Andra. You must be certain. It's not certain you'll survive, and even less that you'll be able to return to this life. It's an entire other world…A _real world_, Andra, not a fantasy or a dream." Hia voice caught, forcing him to pause. When had his eyes become pleading? "Andra...You must be sure."

She spent a long while in silence, looking into those strange lavender eyes. But her own eyes were far away. She didn't answer for so long that he thought she may even change her mind. Finally she answered quietly, "Well, but…If I decide not to go, I won't be there to see if it was the right decision."

That gave his pause. She was so intelligent...but, at the same time, so awfully uninformed. He went on, "Think about your life, your family. Think of everything here you might never again touch, and everyone you may never again lay eyes on."

Andra shook her head, the crease returning ot her forehead, staring incredulously into his intense gaze. "No…No, c'mon, I'm sure! They don't want me; I'm their joke. There's no love, and when there is...i-it's all a facade of stupidity and...fakenes. Built to further the...'individual kingdom' or whatever...And they all wish I was _like _that." Her momentum had been building steadily as she spoke, shifting towards an outcry. She suddenly jerked her arm away and cried desperately, "I don't want to _stay_ here anymore!"

Drizzt's answer was low and steady. "That's not the question. The question is: Do you want to leave?"

"...I'm certain. I want to go with you."

Drizzt wondered how much of what she said still came from delusion. She sounded perfectly rational. By all appearances, she knew exactly what she wanted. Drizzt shook his head. She didn't know exactly what it would be like. Maybe he shouldn't let her. Maybe he should explain it all now, no matter the danger. How much could it alter her destiny if she knew everything all at once? But he remembered Robert…

Then Andra slapped her hand down on the statue, and all doubts were rendered invalid.

* * *

*Disclaimer: I own nothing! except Andra Riley.

*Lyrics aren't mine. They're from the following songs, in order: 'Unwell' by Matchbox 20; 'Beautiful Disaster' by Jon McLaughlin

Next chapter will me longer and more-worked-on. Sorry, this one was kinda rushed. More will happen next time I promise. =]


	3. Down on Utopia

"In this world, there's real and make-believe.

This seems real to me…"

Andra had never experienced anything even close to extra-planar travel. The minute she pressed the button, she (and Drizzt, she assumed and hoped) was sucked into a world devoid of touch and sound. She felt like she was being condensed into the size of a marble. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pressure, and when she was able to open them, saw that she was in something like a swirling blue tunnel. She looked down and saw the fuzzy, silvery outline of what must be her feet, but her mind didn't register them being attached to her. She couldn't make herself move…what the heck was going on!

Breath was so hard to come by; it felt as if a thousand tons were pressing down on her chest, her shoulders, her head. She had to get out—had to move, or she'd be stuck in this living nightmare forever…She tried to call out, but could produce no sound. Then she was falling, all semblance of balance lost. She felt no impact, since there seemed to be no ground… But she felt herself slipping away from whatever flimsy reality there was in this place. There was nothing to grab on to, though! Where would she go if she fell?

Through the mindless panic, she felt a rough tug, as if she were being pulled at, towed back to the tangible by some unseen line. She shut her eyes again, wishing for it all to be over, needing it to end. And why couldn't she freakin _breathe?_ The line carried her away…there was a bright blue and white explosion of light, the feeling of being stretched over infinite spaces…and she fell out of touch with all rational thought.

….

Andra was awakened by her own gasps, as she sucked in the precious oxygen so fast she choked on it. She coughed several times, one hand clutching her throat as she searched desperately for air. She was on her knees, one hand planted on the ground to hold her up. There was an arm around her heaving shoulders-Drizzt's, she assumed.

When she'd more or less caught her breath, she sat back, supported by the dark elf's ready arms. She breathed deeply over and over, eyes frantically wide. Drizzt sighed looking more than a bit shaken himself. "_Magga cammara_, kid…I wish you would have _waited_ for me," he snapped, but without much conviction. Andra could only growl in annoyance, closing her eyes, and collapse against him until her breathing gradually returned to normal.

After several minutes, she leaned away from him, rubbing her hands over her face. "You're alright?" Drizzt asked, to which she nodded.

"Yeah. Sorry." He stood and helped her to her feet. Breathlessly, she added, "Thanks for pulling me out..."

"What in the Nine Hells were you _thinking_?" He cut her off, shaking her by the arms. His grip was far from gentle.

She drew back, trying to make him let go. All of a sudden he was incredulous and exasperated and mad as a demon. "Wull, I…I didn't know what it—"

"Exactly," Drizzt scolded, interrupting. He finally let go, releasing her with a small shove. "You never _never_ activate a magical item, Cosain, unless you know _for sure_ what it will do! What on land or sea were you _thinking_ about?"

"I-I don't know; I _wasn't_!" she shrieked back, scared to the point of anger.

Drizzt stopped. He watched Andra's eyes stare at him like he was a stranger. She was scared of him. His momentum stolen, Drizzt turned away, putting one hand to his forehead. His pitch-black fingers ran through his stark white hair.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry—please."

He sighed wearily, dropping his hand to hook it on his belt. He still kept his back to her. After a moment he turned his head and mumbled, more softly, "Ok. It's alright…You didn't know." He turned to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes for emphasis. "But you must always remember: before any kind of action, first investigate the situation. Always remember. You can't just go jumping straight into it like a…a battle-crazed dwarf." Andra gave a little laugh. Drizzt shook his head and replied with a half-smile, more out of vast relief than anything else.

"Alright...It's alright. Just...don't forget." He lightly patted her back as he turned and started away. "We should get started. Best to travel when the sun is low." Andra nodded immediately, determined not to screw anything else up. From now on she'd do exactly what he told her—nothing else. Only what he wanted.

Taking a look at her surroundings for the first time, she was instantly taken aback. It was a forest…looked like any old forest—but then it didn't. It was…bright. Rustic. Pure. It was like she'd been deposited right in the middle of a wondrous dream. But as a grin warmed her face, she knew that wasn't the case. She'd been deposited in Faerun.

Would that she could fly! She wanted to soar—her spirit was doing just that. They were in a small clearing, a wide spot on a reddish-brown dirt path. Trees like monuments towered on each side of the path, pine needles on every branch. Everything was gloriously lit up with the fire of sunrise. She looked back to Drizzt and saw him stroking Charon's black muzzle; apparently he had traveled with them as well. But the horse was on edge, pawing the ground and whinnying. Drizzt spoke softly to calm him, clicking his tongue, and led him gently to the side of the path. Another horse, a chestnut-colored beauty, waited there, tied to a tree.

Drizzt untied the brown horse and tied Charon in its place. A feed-bag was tied to the tree where he could reach it, and a large bucket of water sat on the ground. Returning with the new mount, Drizzt explained, "Remember how you felt in the tunnel? Imagine how it affects a horse—an easily scared creature with less reasoning. Charon hates the transfer," he added, flashing his crooked smile. "But I've arranged someone to come for him once we've gone.

After Drizzt transferred both his gear and hers onto the new horse, she was more than ready to get going, on to whatever mortal peril awaited her next. This time, Andra mounted the horse mostly by herself, only using Drizzt's hand for balance. He climbed up after her, clicked his tongue and kicked the horse into motion, and they started down the wide, much-trodden road.

"So…how far are we from where?" Andra still gazed at the scenery as they went along at a steady trot.

"We're about half a day away from the nearest city: Iasair."

"What'll we do there?"

"Rest. Lunch. You've not even had breakfast yet. Oh—on that note, you probably should…" He rummaged around in the saddlebag for a moment and produced bread and dried meat, a serving for the both of them. Andra finished it quickly; she'd always been a fast eater. It tasted…less than what she'd thought it would. She always thought of beef jerky when she heard the words 'dried meat.' And, as we all know, jerky is bliss.

"How long will we be on the road?"

"A week, if all goes right."

"…Why? What wouldn't go right?"

Drizzt grunted, tousling his hair to get it out of his eyes. "Do you always ask so many questions?"

"Yeah. Hey, what's Iasair like?"

Drizzt pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head with a sigh.

...

They reached the city a few hours after noon, and Andra was secretly relieved beyond belief. She had no idea that simply _riding_ would take so much out of a person. All you did was ride! You were spared the trouble of carrying your own weight—it should be _easier_. But you did have to constantly shift your center of balance and keep your back straight and heck a saddle was only made for one person. They came within sight of the city long before they reached it—a cruel twist of irony. Apparently setting sights on something in no way meant that you were getting close to it.

Finally, they seemed to be getting somewhere. But when they were still far enough away as to be dots on the horizon, Drizzt stopped the horse. Andy watched in confusion as he twisted around in the saddle, rummaging in the saddlebag for something. Apparently he couldn't find it, or so Andra gathered from the annoyed way he was muttering to himself. "…couldn't have left it…Alright, now where in the heck—oh, here." He turned back around with something in his hand.

Andra's eyes widened as she recognized the plain wooden mask. She watched in surprise as he pushed back his hair and placed it over his face, adjusting the string behind his pointed ears. The magic took effect almost immediately. The mask seemed to sink into his skin, flexing to the form of his face. At the same time, it changed color, changing his black skin into a pale brown complexion. His hair shifted as well, fading into a rich dark brown. It now stretched well past his shoulders.

He ran his fingers through his new mane, struggling to flip it over his shoulders. The sweat from riding all day made it stick to his neck. "Gah…I hate it this long." Then he noticed the way Andra was staring at him. His eyes were expectant, almost to the point of challenging, but his voice ran under the shroud of an innocent question. "What?"

She shook her head a little. "I thought you hated using that."

Drizzt shrugged. "Well. Robert thought so." He took up the reins again, kicking the horse forward. "At any rate—I am now a wood elf. My name is Kandren Dulra. It is much easier to walk through a city when the townsfolk aren't chasing you with pitchforks. "

"Pitchforks…" she mouthed silently, then asked aloud, "Why; haven't you ever been here before?"

Drizzt went on, ignoring the question as if she hadn't spoken. "And you are now my apprentice. Your name is Kiryana Cosain—just because of the irony. And because if I forget and call you Cosain, it won't ruin our cover. I found you as a child in the little farming village of Aisenfield, orphaned as a result of an orc raid you were too young to remember, but you've only just now become old enough to start an apprenticeship. We're in the business of bards and are traveling in search of material suitable enough to send to the great library in the Snowflake Mountains."

She gasped and her voice chimed in brightly, "Cadderly's library!" She smiled, quite pleased with herself for having gotten it right.

Drizzt turned her shoulder and looked her in the eye to make sure she was paying close attention. "You must play this role at all times. Never once let yourself reveal who you—or me for that matter—really are."

Andra looked down, now wearing the thinking crease in between her eyebrows. Now how was she expected to remember all that? But, because he wanted her to, she answered, "Uh…yeah. I'm all over it." Drizzt bit his lip, understandably doubtful.

Andra sighed, struggling to memorize her cover story. But she kept having to think: Why did she need one? Meanwhile, what the heck about the mask? But now they were within earshot of other passing travelers, so she couldn't ask anything else. She shook her head and dropped it, resigning to ask about the mask later. But then he looked down at her and winked with a small smile—and as all fellow readers know, all doubt was swept away when Drizzt smiled.

They came upon the opening in the city wall, two massive wood-and-iron doors that swung inward. They were wide open now, allowing free passage of travelers passing both in and out, all of them on horses or driving wagons. Guards were posted below and sentinels paced the wall above. Drizzt and Andra passed through the gate unhindered, but more than a few people they passed gave them funny looks. Andy whispered uneasily, "What're they lookin at?"

He thought on it for a moment, then winced in realization. "Gah, you're dressed like you're from another world," he groaned. "We'll have to buy you new clothes to wear while we're in towns…For now, use this." He took his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her—and she again reveled in the scent of the surprisingly soft cloth.

The city inside actually met the stereotype image of fantasy-towns Andy had gotten from reading Salvatore. Houses of wood planks and stone blocks lined a packed-dirt road. There was no cobblestone; Andy assumed that pavement was just for large cities like Silverymoon. The street was alive and crawling with a moderate amount of traffic. Pedestrians went back and forth on the sides of the road, most of them women carrying groceries or tugging small children by the hands. There were voices and the bustling sound of people. Men and women stood talking to each other or to shopkeepers as the cart-pullers haggled prices. There was a powdery feel of dust in the air from the road and miscellaneous smells from every direction. No exhaust fumes. No cigarette smoke, but the unpleasant underlying suggestion of sewage coming from unseen gutters. There were beggars. There were people who shouted at each other along with the ones who laughed. But the overall sensation was bright and bustling enough to ignore the negative undertones.

Andy didn't get how Drizzt could keep track of where he was going, but apparently he was having no trouble. So he _must_ have been here before. He steered them down several different streets and they made their way into a sort of cul-de-sac type of place. The road formed a giant doughnut, with mostly houses rimming the outside and places of business occupying the doughnut-hole. Drizzt stopped near the middle of the circle, pulling up in front of an inn, complete with stables. He dismounted first and then held out a hand for Andra.

She shook her head, pushing his hand away. Drizzt withdrew and watched as she swung one leg over and jumped down, much like she'd tried earlier, but this time without falling flat on her back. She hopped back when she hit the ground, took a moment to look at her feet in surprise, and then spun on her heel. Fists on her hips, she gave him a smug smile.

Drizzt answered with a chuckle, flashing that crooked grin of his. "Oh yes, you've dismounted. Magnificent. A wonder the passersby aren't throwing gold and roses."

Andra gave a nod. "Yep. Don't see how they can restrain themselves." Drizzt shook his head and chuckled, rolling his eyes. A stableboy approached them and Drizzt handed over the reins to the horse, after unloading his and Andra's bags. He handed the girl's to her and placed a hand on her back to guide her inside.

The moment they entered, Andra's eyes glowed with delight. It was (amazingly) just like what she'd expected. Half of it was taken up by the bar, where several aging bear-covered men laughed heartily with each other. Andy could only imagine what tales of adventures past they were trading. On the other side of the inn were more patrons seated at circular tables around a fireplace that would roar at night. Andy stopped for a moment, frozen in the act of staring at a raised platform in the corner—was that for singing? Oh, she could only imagine this place at night...a crowd of people gathered together, laughing, dancing by firelight to the loudest, sweetest, rustic music of the bards…

Drizzt glanced back, rolling his eyes when he saw her frozen in awe. He grabbed her by the hood of her—well, his cloak—and yanked her along. She squeaked in surprise and had to hop backwards until she could turn the right way around.

….

"Alright," Drizzt announced, swinging open the door to their rented room. Andy followed him through and shut the door. She moved to one of the two beds and slung her bag on it, huffing a bit. That thing was heavy normally, not to mention while going up stairs.

As Andy sat cross-legged on the bed, Drizzt put his own bag down and started rifling through it. "You'll have to wait here while I go out for the clothes…" He paused, glancing up uneasily, but went right back to digging in his bag. Finally he produced a small object and tossed it to her. Startled, she barely caught it: a sheathed sword about a foot and a half long. Andra looked back up at him in alarm, mouth already open to form a protest. She didn't know the first thing about using a sword! You can't learn swordsmanship from just reading about it.

Drizzt cut her off before she could get a word out. "It's only just in case."

Andy gazed uneasily at the sword, sliding it from its sheath. "Wull…Just in case what?"

He paused for a minute. "In case. I have to meet someone, so I'll be back late—you stay here. You can order food downstairs—I recommend the house special. If there's one thing you'll like about this world, it's definitely the food." He winked with a smile and tossed her a small pouch, which she opened to find some weird-looking coins she took to be money. She looked up and suddenly he was right beside her, locking her eyes to make sure she listened. "You mustn't go outside alone, cosain. Stay here."

With that he swept out of the room, door closing in his wake. Andra shook her head at the door incredulously. "In case _what?_" This was nonsense! What was with these crazy mood swings of his? "Hey wait—who're you meeting that's gonna take all day to talk to?" She called, receiving no answer, though he obviously had to have heard her.

Andy stood up, balling her fists at her side and stomping one foot. "I call shenanigans!"

"I walk a lonely road:

The only road that I have ever known.

Don't know where it goes,

But it's only me and I walk alone."

He came out into the dusty street, which was a lot less populated now that the midday traffic rush was dying down. Ignoring the gnawing uneasiness at leaving the girl alone, he forced himself away from the inn and toward the stables. He'd have to try and make his business fast, even though meeting with the streettiers seldom was. They made you pry and squeeze every drop of information out of them, and all the while you had to be careful not to give anything away about yourself. But Drizzt liked meeting with them. Even if they were among the dirtiest weasels that ever crawled a city. Playing their battles of wit kept his mind sharp. Plus, he always came out on top—which was not a feat that came easily to him anymore, it seemed.

The stable boys had done well by the horse. Drizzt had come to hope for that kind of quality work from this particular inn; he knew the owners well and they had several other taverns established in bigger towns. Quality people. He took the horse, flipping a coin into the hands of the nearest stablehand, and mounted once he was back on the street. He left with an inner battle against the urge to glance back. She would be fine…

At least, she would be fine until he got back. Because when he did, she would have questions for him. Why was he guarding her, why was she here, all those wonderful freakin soul-searchers that are of course _so_ easy to answer. Soon enough, the new would wear off, and then she would wonder at the purpose behind it all. Drizzt cringed at the thought—his ulterior motives. He wasn't there to save her. He was there to shove her into a nightmare. They would place all the hopes and expectations on her. They would bow her young shoulders with the weight of half a world and plead with her not to break. And he would be the one to bring her to it. All the while the little fox believed him to be rescuing her. He had to be Lolth-loved for such lies.

Drizzt closed his eyes, face locked in a grimace, one hand running through his fake brown hair. He left it there, fake elven hand covering half his fake, scowling elven face. She had asked him what cosain meant. He was a liar about that too. She had no idea…She would be the one to defend them all. They asked so much and gave her no choice. Because there could be no choice. There was no choice left for any of them.

Suddenly an alarmed horse's neigh tore him from his thoughts. His horse. The stallion bucked under him, nearly throwing him out of the saddle, in the face of a wagon fast advancing on them from the other side of the road. With a gasp and cry of surprise, he clutched onto the saddle with his legs and scrambled for the reins, trying to pull his horse to the side. The wagon's horses sped head-on toward him, no sign of stopping.

He barely got back into his side of the road on time. He looked back, panting, staring wide-eyed over his should at the passing wagon. It'd had to go up on two wheels to steer around him; he'd been _way_ into their lane. The driver was still screaming some odd obscenities at him from the growing distance.

He turned forward, shaking his head, just sheerly a_mazed_. How the heck did one go about being so stupid? He ran a hand through his shaggy elf-hair to get it back over his shoulder; that little episode had sent it flying. Man. What a stupid way to die that would've been. And then where would Andra be…?

That thought struck him as fast and hard as that wagon would have.

From then on, he endeavored to keep Andra far from his mind. He didn't have to think about it right now—those were problems for later. Right now, he was meeting with the streettiers. The solitude helped clear his mind. Right now, he was responsible only for Drizzt. If he wanted, he could pull a hit on the blasted mafia and only worry about getting his own self out. And if he failed he still needn't worry too much; it was just _him_. He wasn't a guardian and he didn't have a cosain—right now. This was his ranger life. Freedom. Sure. No one there to hurt—and no one to share in his own.

He forced the thoughts away. He was close; he needed all his wits about him.

Drizzt turned into a shaded alleyway tucked into a corner between several abandoned buildings, so small it was nearly impossible to spot unless you were looking for it. He drew his hood over his face—for here, it was actually a disadvantage to look like a surface elf. He would be much safer here as a drow, but he didn't remove the magical mask. The path wound around many turns and he turned several more corners, leaving behind the bright streets for a labyrinth of closing stone walls and dim gutters. The pathways were at first deserted, but as he got farther in, they were littered sparsely with shady, cloaked, weasely-looking figures that moved about jumpily, ducking their heads as Drizzt's horse passed by. There were silent haggards in increasing numbers, moving about solemnly or slumped against the walls. The sun seemed to be gradually retreating behind him.

Finally, Drizzt turned at a sort of intersection alleys and the path opened up, revealing a tiny, sad plaza crammed with rotting wooden shacks that pressed on each other and against the walls. Those were either for living in or for selling stolen goods; mainly that meant booze. It stank like wet dirt, sewage, and alcohol. Melancholy figures draped in unraveling rags drifted past like phantoms, some of them murmuring to each other in hushed whispers. One felt like they had to whisper in here, even if what they said wasn't a secret—which rarely happened here. The atmosphere was muffled in a veil of hopelessness—but that was only the first layer. Underneath there was a feeling of vibration and hostility. Drizzt imagined a million dust-covered time bombs sitting as grey relics in grey shadows.

He dismounted his horse, leading it by the reins, his boots slapping on the damp dirt floor. He glanced to the side with narrowed as one of the cloaked weasels shoved past him, making out like he was angry or as if the close quarters were forcing him to squeeze by. Drizzt nearly let him pass. Right as the haggard was nearly home free, probably already counting up how much beer he could buy with his newly stolen coin, a hand shot out and caught him by the arm.

The man—a very poor excuse for one—let out a grunt and tugged roughly, but Drizzt's grip didn't break. He murmured quietly and evenly, "Good sir cutpurse, I would suggest that you either learn some originality or limit your work to those lacking in intelligence." Drizzt suddenly held up a small leather pouch—his own pouch—and broke a small, derisive smile. "That blasted trick's so old it ain't even worth criticizing."

The thief's eyes widened. He'd been bested at his own trade—and worse, he'd gotten himself caught. But instead of a dagger to his ribs, as per norm around here, he suddenly found a pair of reins being pressed into his hand. The thief stared from sunken eye sockets, his many wrinkles deepening as he gaped in astonishment.

Drizzt started walking, tossing a last comment over his shoulder. "Anyway. I think a horse is a much better payday than my coinpurse. Don't you?"

As Drizzt walked away, eyes forward and low under his hood, he listened closely. Before he'd walked even five steps, he heard the sounds of scuffling and grunting as a fight broke out behind him. Heh...naturally. If there's one thing you do not want to be, it is in the thieves' plaza while in possession valuable item. That horse was a very valuable item.

Drizzt cracked a mischievous grin and kept on walking.

The haggard was pounced by at least five or more of his fellow scoundrels—while the horse was swiftly led away by another, smarter thief who used the distraction to his advantage. And that one stuck out somewhat, looking out of place in the alleys. He sported a large body frame, an old veteran's visage, and a jagged scar over his left eye. He was smart, though. He escaped with the horse, while all the others erupted in a brawl over a prize which was no longer there.

"Why does it rain, rain, rain

Down on Utopia?

Why does it have to kill the ideal of who we are?

Why does it rain, rain, rain

Down on Utopia?

How will the lights die down, telling us who we are?"

True to his word, he returned hours later, loaded down like a pack-mule with her new wardrobe, to find her sitting cross-legged on the table under the window. Her face was turned outward toward the city, over which twilight was descending. Drizzt glanced at her and paused for a second, then shook his head and dumped his armload on her bed.

He glanced back at the girl, who still hadn't looked at him or spoken. Drizzt's brow furrowed. What in the Nine was she doing now? While her back was turned, though, he took the opportunity to slip a small leather-wrapped parcel out from under the pile of cloth. He quickly shoved it into his own bag and went back to sorting the clothes as if nothing had happened.

"Drizzt?" Her voice was quiet. She didn't turn away from the window.

"Yes."

"In case what?"

He stopped sorting through the clothes, raising his head. After a moment he said, "I gave you a sword, Andra. We all carry them around here—those who can afford one. Nearly all the time. Why do you think that is?"

She turned around at last. His face was stone again. Ugh. That was why she hadn't looked at him in the first place—there was always the underlying fear that the foreign, cold statue-face would be there. Andra opened her mouth as if to answer, but couldn't come up with anything.

She didn't have to though, because Drizzt answered himself promptly, "For defense." To her confused look, he huffed a sigh, shifting his own gaze out the window. "You seem to be under the impression that you can't be hurt here. That you've traveled far from…danger, I guess. But there are criminals and murderers in Faerun, too."

"I get it, ok. What'd you buy?" Andra slid down from the table and pointedly starting rummaging around in the pile of clothes, acting as if the serious atmosphere they'd created didn't even exist.

But Drizzt wouldn't allow her to ignore it. He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Cosain. Here you can be hurt in just as many ways as your own world. It's not a written story; Robert's not there as our omnipresent shield. To think so is childish, impossible. Anything can happen to anyone, even a main char—."

"Al_right._ I under_stand_," she snapped, looking up sharply. Drizzt stopped, frozen at the sight of her viper-like eyes. "I know there's badness everywhere. Duh. Stranger danger. I guess I just don't like it."

"What does that mean?" he asked, his voice a monotone.

Andy huffed in aggravation, giving him that incredulous look that meant 'it-should-be-obvious.' "Means I wish there were places with_out_ it. Doesn't everybody? Maybe I want to keep it a mystery if this world is anything like mine."

Drizzt shook his head, staring with growing wonder, silent. Finally, he only shrugged. "You asked." Slowly, a very small sympathetic smile broke through. Yeah, sure. 'I'm sorry but I told you so.' He chuckled once, softly. "Weren't expecting that for an answer, hm?"

Andra drew back, eyes fading quickly from angry to desperately apologetic. Drizzt's heart sank. The child was back. Worse, she ended the conversation—was sorry she started it. That…that wasn't how it should have ended. It wasn't finished; they hadn't worked anything out yet.

He'd pushed too far too soon, he realized. And he hated leaving things undone like that—unsaid. But it was worth it. It was worth it if for no other reason than to see something in her that wasn't bred of delusion or stereotype or blasted self-absorbed _dreaming_… And now he knew: It was possible for her to grow. It was also possible for her to be mad at him when she knew more—hadn't he predicted that? Maturity was buried in her. By her. She could grow. And when she grew…_magga cammara,_ his cosain would be brilliant.

He couldn't get at it right now, and he hated that. He hated waiting. The future, however, held many promises. She would be valiant, standing, strong—nothing she dreamed of but everything she wanted…

Drizzt suddenly broke into an irrepressible smile, so relieved and refreshed and determined that Andra could only blink at him in confusion. He shook his head, brushing a hand over her shoulder, and chuckled, "Ah, cosain…you and me, kid—we're going places." Then he just turned back to the clothes pile, picking up several random garments and handing them over. "Try these on, see if they fit right. I really had no idea what size you are."

Andra took the clothes dumbly without hesitation, nodding. "Yeah," she was quick to reply. She took the bundle of cloth to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door softly, as if afraid to touch things too hard.

Smile quickly fading, Drizzt blew a sigh, running his hand through his hair. Was she going to be like that for long? Probably…maybe even longer now. Maybe that marvelous flash of anger would shame her into suppressing it. Drizzt cringed at the possibility. And what—_magga cammara_—what on land or sea had he just _told_ her? What "places" was he talking about so jovially? He'd just set her up for grandeur. '_Places…'_

He leaned against the wall beside the table and window, looking out over the city. It wasn't quite dark yet, just enough light for one more hour. Already he could pick out the beginnings of the nighttime-crowd. The thieves, the drunkards. The beggars in the ditches. The former would wait until the respectable men had gone home to their waiting wives, and then the streets would show hidden colors. There were just as many ruffians as decent citizens (if there was such a term). But the overall sensation was dark and ominous enough to overlook the redeeming undertones.

"Go places," he said. He made it sound like they were headed for grandeur and adventure—just what she wanted. He had actually smiled at the thought of what they would find down this badger hole! And now: realization, striking with its full crushing weight. By the stones…what great new lies had he fed to her now?

….

Andra was thrilled with her new wardrobe. Most of them fit fine; the rest were too big. She loved the way she looked in them. They were simple and served only practical purposes—none of fashion—but Andra liked it that way. She had never liked fashion. She spent a while longer than it should have taken her to just try them on, because she had to stop for a few minutes and spin around in front of the mirror every time she changed. The best was an outfit that looked fit for a ranger: it was a form-fitting leather torso that went over a brown, long-sleeved shirt with those flowing kind of poofy-sleeves that shrunk at the wrists. No elastic—she loved that. Everything was real leather—and the boots; oh, they were among the best.

She now had her own cloak. It was different from the rest—he must have given some thought to the design. It was a beautiful rich brown, heavy but light enough not to be a burden. The neck and cowl—aw, she loved having a cowl—was lined in golden-brown fur that looked like it was from a deer or something like that. It was Andra's favorite piece.

When she emerged, dressed in regular shorts and a t-shirt from her own bag, Drizzt was already asleep in one of the beds. He'd left a lantern—yes, a _lantern_—burning on the table that was between the two beds. Andra moved as quietly as she could, putting the clothes away into two separate piles. She didn't know how they planned on taking all of it with them. But she only had three new outfits total, and then the cloak and boots, because she'd only be wearing them in towns. They could always buy new things as needed when they passed through cities.

Unsettlement returned with those thoughts. Her alias ran through her mind: Kiryana Cosain, making her feel like some kind of…actress. And that wasn't as pretty a thing to be as it sounded. She didn't like her role. No—that wasn't it. She would love to be a bard's apprentice. What she didn't like was the _having_ of a role—the necessity to be undercover.

Why? She moved to the window, sitting on the table underneath, and tried looking out at the nighttime street. The glare from the lantern was small and warm; ordinarily it would be cozy, but not when it was screwing up your window view. Andra glanced down at the light, looking for the little tab thing that was supposed to be on the side of it. She found it alright; smirking to herself, she turned it fully to the right, expecting the flame to die down. Instead, it leapt up with a small whoosh, clearly making a target of her eyebrows. "_Ohgeeze!_" She jerked back with a jolt and hissed through her teeth, fumbling around the dial until she finally was able to turn it the other way. The flame shrank submissively, sulking that it hadn't burned off some hair.

Finally the lamp was out. Andra shook her head, grinding her teeth a little. Forgetting the reason she'd turned the lamp down in the first place, she left her seat on the table and went to her bed before she ended up burning the whole freakin place down. She moved painfully slow, trying to avoid the bed's creaks as she settled underneath the blankets. She rested her head on the down-stuffed pillow, ignoring the scratches on a straw-stuffed blanket, and fell asleep feeling that her world was finally new.

"I can't get close if you're not there;

I can't get inside if there's no soul to bear.

I can't fix you…I can't save you…

It's something you'll have to do.

When you find you…

Come back to me."

There were voices. She was adrift in a swirl of unsorted visions, rare flashes of clarity among blind tumult—and voices. Familiar sounds calling an old name…her name. But it sounded foreign…it wasn't Andra, or Cosain, or even Kiryana. They called her Andy. It was a name from another world. An old world. A place she'd left behind.

They kept calling at her, things like "Wake up…come back…do you hear me?" Honestly, she couldn't tell if she did hear them. Who was 'them' anyway? And why were they pulling at her again? She was back in the astral tunnel, floating and paralyzed, blind and lost. And suffocating…but when she gasped for breath, she found herself fully capable of taking in air.

She had a body this time; she felt it move with her breathing. Not the tunnel. Her eyes opened; a blurry world swirled just on the fringes of vision. Bright light assaulted her eyes and she shut them immediately. The voices rose in excitement. As feeling seeped into her limbs, she was aware of a hand in hers, gripping so hard it hurt. She squirmed her fingers around, but that only seemed to make the hand hold tighter. There were so many voices…two or three of them sounded familiar, but the others were strange and foreign and monotonous.

"Stop—she's coming around. Any more and we'll lose the progress." In response, something sharp was pulled out of the skin of her arm, pinching painfully. She opened her eyes again, squinting against the light. Ever-moving faces stared down at her, mouths covered in green paper masks, with paper hairnets on their heads. Doctors? What were they doing to her? Panic gripped her; she didn't remember any of this. She did remember that she had been asleep though and she latched onto that, hoping that it could all be some dream. It sure was fuzzy enough to be a dream…

"She's—she's awake!" A shrill voice came from the side. It was one of the familiar ones. She turned that way and saw more masked faces. Three looked so familiar it was maddening…she should know them. She had to know them…but she couldn't place any of them. Two, a middle-aged man and woman, clung to each other. Tears streamed down the woman's face and her eyes—that's all Andy could see, because of the mask—were intensely, desperately hopeful. The man's shone with tears as well, but he was holding them back. Holding the tears back…just like…he had taught her…

But when she saw the third set of eyes, her panic was quelled. She locked onto the face, that of a very young man—no more than a teenager. She knew those eyes. Out of her vague stupor, Andra's lips formed a smile. She wasn't even aware that she was speaking until she heard her own faint voice. "Ay, you…don't I know you…?"

The young eyes—purple eyes—were lit afire with broken happiness. He nodded vigorously, and she noticed a few strings of long hair escaping his hairnet. "Yes Andy, oh of course you know me! Please you have to come back okay? You know me and so you know that I need you to come _back_."

Andra's tiny smile spread. Yes, she knew who that was. He had always been there for her, even when he wasn't. Her hope, her guardian. The mask made him look different, but she knew those eyes. Those were the eyes of her the one being in who kept her hanging on. She closed her eyes and whispered joyously, "Drizzt…"

The young man froze. The light drained slowly from his eyes, leaving behind crushing, empty despair. "No…no, no!" Andra's eyes opened again, quickly this time. "Andy, no, that's not me, _please_, Andy, you _know_ me! Don't you _know_ me!" He came forward, grabbing at her arm. It was his hand she held, and it tightened all the more. She felt one of her knuckles pop. Andra's smile fled. What was wrong with him? It _was_ him, wasn't it? The eyes, the eyes were the tell…Who else had those eyes?

"Drizzt…what's wrong?" she whispered. Behind him, the woman was sobbing into her husband's chest.

"Nurse, get them out of here." One of the voices ordered.

In obedience, one of the strangers came to usher them out the door. But he had to call another to help him, because the young man was struggling viciously to stay by her side. "No! Let me stay, I can talk to her—I have to keep talking to her!_ She hears me!"_ He reached for her, calling out in agony with a voice broken by sobs. "No…no...please, I _have_ to stay; she…She hears me…"

His hand was torn from hers, and right afterwards—maybe as a result—the vision began to melt away. She slipped back into the dark inner confusion, his beautiful voice echoing as the last sound she heard.

"_Please, Andra, WAKE UP! Don't you KNOW me!_"

She fell away into blackness.

….

She jolted upright, covered in sweat and gasping for breath. Her wide eyes took in the setting: an old-fashioned room of an inn, bathed in the darkness of pre-dawn. She was back…she was safe in Faerun. It had been a dream…she refused to believe it was as real as it had seemed. Oh, it was so real…people say that about every dream, but really in the background you always know you're asleep. She hadn't felt that this time; it was like she really was there. But that was impossible…it was only a dream…

She'd been awakened by her own squeal of fear; it wasn't loud enough to be called a scream. But it apparently was loud enough to wake her companion. Drizzt was sitting up in the next bed, rubbing his face and groaning sleepily. "Andra…" he whispered, shaking off the sleep. He sounded annoyed. "What is it?"

"Uh…oh—nothin," she whispered. She took a slow breath, rubbing her eyes. "A dream I guess…" But she felt wetness under her fingers. Appalled, she swiped the tears away before Drizzt could see.

Drizzt did see. He didn't say anything. But instead of just going back to sleep like he'd meant to, he instead pushed off his blankets and got up. He came over and kneeled beside her bed. Andra glanced up briefly, making like she was only rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. But heck, her cover was blown. She looked down at the bed, unable to meet his eyes. He must think she was such a stupid child.

But she felt his hand on her shoulder, and it was just like any other hand but for her sight, and his soft voice said, "You're alright now, huh?"

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. "Yeah," she whispered.

He shook his head, voice rising to just above a whisper, as he moved his arm around her shoulders. He was so gentle now, like a big brother or a father. Not at all the face of stone. "You don't have to say so if you're not. I don't…I dunno why in the Nine you think you have to… But Cosain, you can rest now. You're in a new place…It—it's not a perfect place, so...neither do you have to be. Alright?"

"Yeah. Alright."

Drizzt didn't for once second believe that it was alright, but with nothing left to say, he was forced to drop the unresolved problem. "…Alright." He patted her once on the back as he stood, going back to his bed. He really hated to leave things undone. But what the heck else was there to do? He returned to his bed, trying to ignore the aggravating gnawing feeling, and struggled back into sleep. Unlike Robert's version of Faerun, elves slept just like everybody else.

But Andra stayed up for a long while, unmoving. She looked for a long while at Drizzt's sleeping form, his back turned to her. Finally, she lay down and slept.

"And everything, it will surely change, even if I tell you

I won't go away today.

Will you think that you're all alone, when no one's there to hold your hand?

When all you know seems so far away

And everything is temporary, rest your head;

I'm permanent."

They stood on a small hillock breaking the otherwise level path, eyes to the horizon and the wide dirt road that flew forever on. The pair together formed a single speck under the early morning sky, unacknowledged by the cool, gentle breeze that flowed in its own paths around them. The sat in the saddle and could gaze out for miles; the hills in the distance were gold.

Andra sat again in Drizzt saddle, astride yet another new horse. That morning they had risen early, and after a rushed (for some reason) breakfast in the tavern, saddled up and set out. Andra had asked where the old horse went—Drizzt told her he sold it. He had done little else, aside from rushing her through the morning, which had been silent between them except for his sparse pragmatic instructions. In the business, he'd kept her mind occupied. All thoughts of last night's horrible, foreign nightmare had flown in fear of morning light. She was in a new life, thinking about new things, wearing new clothes—all dressed up in her Kiryana costume as she went out to face the new world that didn't know her name. It was a lonely feeling, and sad in a strange way, but a refreshing one. Like standing under this sky.

He had been robotic and distracted all morning, seeming absorbed in his own thoughts. But now, as he stopped the horse with no explanation on the little overlooking hill, it didn't seem to matter that it was an odd thing to do. It was at least break in his weird, distant mood—and at most, it opened and opportunity to break the silence.

But he didn't say anything. He only stared at the distance with eyes that stayed very far away. Finally, Andra was fed up with patience. If she didn't break the glassy silence, no one would, and they would never get at the profound unspokens underneath. She asked, "Why'd you stop?"

For another annoying moment, he was silent still, then without looking at her he mumbled, "I needed to tell you…" He stopped again, shaking his head. Man, was that annoying. And just when she'd thought they were getting started.

Drizzt suddenly sighed in aggravation and moved to get down from the horse. Once down he held out a hand for Andra, and she took it with no word of protest, fearing to end the almost-conversation they were trying to start. Drizzt ran a hand through his hair, stopping at his forehead, and then suddenly shoved the mask off his face and over his head. As the mask clattered to the ground, his features changed back into his familiar ebon skin and white hair. Andra was glad for the change.

Andra was staring at him impatiently. He couldn't say silent for long, not under those eyes. He shook his head, looking down, and muttered, "I hate this for you. I…am sorry, I guess." His fingers absently entwined with the horse's thick black mane.

Andra shook her head, not understanding but denying anyway. She could tell how those words felt; she spoke connotation. "I love it here. What do you mean 'sorry'?"

He did look up then, into her eyes. His expression was doubting, his tone dry. "You love it here?"

She nodded right away. Then, it was her turn to turn her eyes down. What was it with her and eye-to-eye contact? Like she was afraid of it or something. But she talked, at least. "When I was…eh, back _there_…I knew it was the inferior world. I did. Every time something gimp happened, I would think: This wouldn't be a problem in Faerun. I'd say something weird, you know, and people looked at me funny—with their gimp stupid eyebrow raised up and all—when they did I would think…I mean…"

Drizzt felt his heart sink as she stopped suddenly, looking up at him with her mouth still open, like she really _wanted_ to say it, but just…she didn't. "What?" he asked, a bit too earnestly, because she looked down again, mumbling something about 'nevermind.' So he tried again, voice gentler, as understanding as he could make it. "Andra, what?"

"Fine. I'd think: Drizzt would understand."

The drow paused, wondering if he should be surprised. He decided no, he wasn't. Of course she would think that; it's what she wanted him to be, and she didn't know him. Drizzt exhaled slowly, what might have been a very quiet sigh. "It is not what you imagined. I am not."

She looked up quickly, head already shaking, ready to assure him—no, this was a dream come true, she was so grateful to him for saving her, all that good stuff. But she stopped. That telltale little crease formed between her eyebrows: the thinking crease.

Drizzt met her eyes with a knowing gaze. "I know it isn't. Nothing can be, though. Reality doesn't know our dreams, and neither would it bend to them if it did."

Andra shook her head helplessly, trying to make herself say anything at all, for this was a moment where words most mattered. Surely she would know the perfect words—later, when it didn't matter. But for now, it was alright. Drizzt had words.

"Cosain," he began uncomfortably, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm not going to promise anything I can't guarantee. I don't…I don't _want_ to be a liar… Listen, maybe things will be alright in the end. I can't see the blasted future. Maybe all we do will end up vain."

She suddenly found a voice, small though it may be. "Some things are worth it."

Drizzt nodded absently, staring out at the road yet again with his hands in his pockets. He leaned against the horse and talked without looking. That was borderline annoying, even though it was supposed to be all spiritual: gazing out into the distance and all while you talked in riddles. "One thing, though. I can give you one promise—guaranteed—and Llolth love me if I'm not going to."

He turned, meeting her wide eyes with a deep and liquid stare. "I will always…try. To be there, and help where I can. And I can promise, too, that it…it may not be enough." Again he looked away.

Andra stared wide-eyed for many moments, until he began to worry that he'd said too much, too fast—again. Or handled it wrong. He looked back hesitantly, fearing her silence.

But then she finally piped up, a bit shakily. "This is a permanent offer?"

Drizzt's slight smile was relieved. He gave a breathy laugh. "Doubtless."

"Lifetime warranty? No fine print?"

He blinked, smile gone. "A…'warranty'?" He didn't know that word.

"Nothin." Andra smiled wryly—what a beautiful little mischievous smile that kid had. "I'll try too, then. I mean, you know. Always." Then she whistled a bit and added, "Long as you don't make a habit out o' random spirit-speeches like that one."

At that, Drizzt suddenly burst into unrestrained, uncontrollable laughter. Pure laughter—healing laughter. And while Andra was laughing at his randomness, and asking why the heck he was so _weird_, it only made him laugh harder. It was actually a good time to make one of his random mood changes. He only scooped up the magic mask and climbed back onto the horse. "C-come on…" he chuckled, trying to talk around lingering laughter, and held a hand out to her. She took hold.

"Ack—!" Andra yelped as he suddenly jerked hard on her arm. He swung her into the saddle, exaggerating an effort-exertion-growl as if she weighed a ton. "Yahh, there ya go. _Magga cammara_, go a little lighter on the breakfast, perhaps?" Andra laughed and smacked his knee playfully.

"Forward, then, Cosain! We'll make the halls within the night."

"The _night_, are you—wait really?"

"Well. If we break none and canter the whole way."

"Kay…what's a 'canter'?"

"Hyah!" He kicked the horse into motion. The sorrel mare whinnied and dove forward into full speed, cantering, soaring down the forever-stretched road towards the distant hills of gold.

A trail of dust rose behind them, set afire by the early copper light, and Andra's screams of laughter reverberated distantly over the open spaces.

….

Boots of tattered leather crunched the ground, slowly bringing their wearer directly into the lingering cloud of red dust. Behind, the hooves of a brown stallion followed, as its new owner tugged at its reins. The man stared out towards the same golden hills, but there was no wistfulness in his eyes—no uncertainty, no wonder. He knew what that road held. He was a veteran of it.

There was no mystery to this one, no low cowl to cover his ominous face, no flowing cloak to sway about his ankles—none of that. He was a rugged man perhaps in his late forties, with tired wrinkles around his eyes and a bright brown beard dusting his strong jaw. A very old, broken scar stretched from his brow to the edge of his nose: the remainder of a blow that had taken his left eye. He was definitely not rich. Far from it—he was a haggard. But this strange specimen looked far better suited to the untamed forest or canyon than to any street alleyway. He was old for a streettier, not matched well with the job. His bull chest and broad shoulders made a weasel-type thief the last thing you would think of. He was dressed in leather tunics and tucked his traveling pants into his boots—like a ranger. Or a lumberjack. He _must_ have something to do with wood…

He was out here today because of his difference. All the other thieves of Iasair were wise, when stolen from, to shut their mouths and try to steal things quietly back later. Not old Cedric—of course not. Besides…he'd take anything to get away from the alleys. Those ackled ole holes of stench and gloom…Any excuse would do. Even a weak one, like retrieving a stolen artifact from a certain skinny-headed little wood elf.

They had taken his most—his _only_ prized possession and were traveling fast away, having long gone from his sight, leaving nothing but this dispersing trail of dirt in the air. But despite the advantage in ground they were gaining, the old wanderer didn't follow right away. He was lingering, reveling, for the first time in years, in the feel of the open road. His oldest friend. His loyal companion.

Cedric Runsin breathed deep of dusty air, closing his tired brown eyes, and felt the sun warm his beard once more. "Ahh…old friend…How long it has been." he sighed in a rumbly, warming voice, placing his fists on his hips. It was good to be home. He grinned wide, the first genuine, vibrant smile he'd had in years. "I have missed you, open road."

After a few more moments to bask in the rekindling sense of a new developing venture, the rustic old stranger mounted the horse. Crazy he was, maybe. But dagnabbit if he wasn't going to have fun with it. His blade would finally drink again—he would have his quarry. When Kandren Dulra had entered Cedric's humble gutter, on appointment, he expected it to be a routine information exchange. His price was fair, of course! More than fair. It was more than any other was willing to take. The elf had protested hotly, but accepted it. Now the gruff streettier knew why; Kandren had taken back some compensation when ole Cedric wasn't looking. Thought he'd get away, too. Fool elf.

Cedric kicked the horse hard, driving it forward at a sure and steady gallop. He had all the time in the world. His hourglass was plenty full. And pity that weaselin' little skinny-headed elf brat when the sand ran out.

* * *

OITHER'S NOTEL!

*Disclaimer: I own nothing except Andra and Cedric, Drizzt belongs to R. A. Salvatore and Forgotten Realms, etc etc

*Disclaimer numbah two: The lyrics aren't mine, they're from the following songs in order: "Let Me Go" by Three Doors Down, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day, "Utopia" by Within Temptation, "Come Back to Me" by David Cook, and "Permanent" also by David Cook. Lots of lyric headings this time.

So, it wasn't as eventful as I'd have liked. Eh...I plot as I go. So I tried to set things up for a more action-y chapter next time, but I really need some motivation and possibly inspiration, so feedback is appreciated. =] Thanks to the ones who've been reading!^^


	4. Animal In Me

"**Me, I'm rusted and weathered, **

**Been holding together…**

**I'm covered with skin—that peels and it**

**Just won't heal."**

The smoke in the distance was rising again, watched afar by Cedric's one tired eye. Every day he'd kept his eyes trained on them, tracking like the old dog he was, watching the smoke from their fires. The elf was certainly fast. Cedric was no more than an hour away from them, but keeping up like this, he would begin to fall behind. He knew that. Yet he relaxed, fireside, stretched out with his bags serving as a pillow. He was in no hurry. He'd just finished a dinner of scrawny fire-cooked rabbit—sadly, the largest meal he'd had in years. Why didn't he just do this all the time? Maybe he'd start. It was much easier getting a meal out of the untamed wilderness than in that gutter city he'd left behind.

Left for good, Cedric hoped.

He poked the fire lazily with the metal spit he'd cooked with, causing a few sparks to float up among the smoke. Cedric smiled. Finally, a decent fire. Not any trash fire, mind you—those pitiful embers that smelled of rot. No more of those for a while. For the next days, Cedric could burn wood again. It had the best smell, a wood fire. It really did.

The old man once again stared out over the valley, rubbing a hand over his pockmarked face and scraggly beard. A surprisingly bright pair of small, brown eyes gleamed from deep in their sockets, picking out the thin trail of smoke that rose from the other side of the valley. Here as the trail faded into the mountains, the road had taken on a wide turn, doubling back on itself like a large U. The outside was bordered by a sharp incline up the mountain, while the inside contained the drop-off into the valley. It wasn't too far across and clear the whole way. Cedric's camp and that of his targets' both dotted the trail, one on either side of the valley.

Even though Cedric was in no hurry, the elf and his girl seemed to be setting a fine pace for themselves. Where were they going so fast? He wondered. What home had they, that they were so eager to get there? All _day_ they rode. They stopped for meals, but that was all, and they were always on the move again within the hour. Cedric had to wonder. What home had they?

Maybe it was nice. Maybe he'd want it for his own, after he'd killed the elf.

But what the heck was he supposed to do with that girl? Surely he felt sorry to have to kill her guardian. But as far as he could tell, she was human—so at least he knew he wouldn't be taking anyone out of her family or anything. Surely she had others to run to that would care for her. He could just let her loose, he guessed. After all, _she_ hadn't stolen from him.

And…there was something in her that just…reminded him. Maybe it was her age, or her golden hair, or the endearing curiosity. She was too much like his Raylin. Cedric suddenly looked away, back into his fire. He had no desire to think of Ray—not now, when there were things to be done. Later tonight, though, he'd lay awake with the familiar, jaded memories.

The old streettier stood and stretched with a grunt, then started putting out the fire. It was early, but, oh well. He'd decided now that he'd start catching up with them, instead of wait a day.

The ashes smoldering behind him, Cedric hoisted his gear and carried it to his new horse, who was tied by the road. "Sorry, m'boy." He grunted as he loaded the bags onto the saddle. "Gonna hafta carry this sorry old man a little bit more."

But he didn't mount right away. He stood in front of the stallion, stroking its muzzle, looking into those dark, liquid eyes. "Dunno why…" he whispered—and the gravelly voice was surprisingly soft in a whisper. "For the life o' me, I can't see what they're runnin toward."

He was riding again soon—but from the start he felt something was amiss. Something felt wrong: oppressive, a threat. He narrowed his eyes, searching the surroundings. The immediate area showed nothing wrong, neither in front or behind him. Cedric looked up to the right, to the cliff that bordered the trail.

Sure enough, he caught glimpses of the hooves of running steeds, just above the ridge and just out of his sight. In the same breath, it seemed, they decided to send him a little message.

The arrow skipped off the ground a few feet to his left. Taken by surprise, as he was rusty at this game, Cedric was startled. "Black _powder!_" A shout escaped him and he reflexively pulled back on the reins of his horse, causing it to neigh and pull back surprise. Regaining control, he spurred the horse frantically forward.

This could be a problem. Vulnerability, outnumbered by many, and lack of ranged weapons whereas the enemy had them. He wasn't prepared for this. He'd planned for any surprises the elf could have brought, but…this, he didn't expect.

Cedric indeed was rusty to the ways of the road. He hadn't counted on bandits.

….

Lavender eyes once again watched he road behind, locked steadily on the rider who was now steadily making his way along the mountain path. Drizzt had not been an idle watchman; he'd kept an eye on that rider ever since he'd realized the stranger had been pacing them. For the three days they'd been on the road, the man had done no more than match their speed. But something had changed. The rider had cut short his usual lunch break to begin riding again.

Drizzt stood silent and still as a statue, causing Andra to glance his way from her spot beside the campfire. But she went right back to her half-finished lunch as the drow moved off to a pile of boulders on the edge of their camp. He'd been like that the entire trip. Like he expected a bunch of Foot ninja or something to jump out and ambush them at any minute. It was cool and exciting at first, but every alarm so far had turned out false. So now she was kinda doubting the benefits of paranoia.

She looked up to where he still stood on the rock pile, like a dog with his ears perked up. She rolled her eyes and forked another piece of meat from her bowl. "You look like a meerkat, you know. Like one of the sentry ones."

Drizzt didn't reply. Andy glared at his back for a second before piping up again. "Okay if you don't come and eat that you know I'm gonna." She pointed to his food bowl, which sat abandoned on the rock he'd been using as his bench.

"Sure. Have fun catching me another boar."

Andra glared at his back some more, huffing a short sigh. "I could catch a boar…" she pouted, reaching back to pull up the hood of her new cloak. No particular reason. She just liked it under her hood. And because, even though the dismal sky was light, it was covered with thin clouds that promised rain at any moment.

Drizzt didn't turn around, but from his quiet chuckle, Andra could easily picture the smug grin on his face. "What?" she protested. "I could totally catch a boar. I mean if you taught me, sure."

Drizzt's head shook and she heard his laugh again. "No—that's not what I was laughing at. Of course you'd catch a boar. You could catch a _bear_ if you had a mind of it."

Andra blinked, a little surprised by the...compliment, was it? "Oh…what was funny then?"

The drow shrugged and answered matter-of-factly, "The idea that catching a boar is so high an accomplishment to you."

Andy opened her mouth, forming a protest, but then closed it and looked down. The little thinking crease formed between her eyes. "…You're so _right_. I hate that."

Drizzt laughed absently, but never took his eyes from the rider across the valley, who was nearly at the bend in the U-shaped road. He stared with growing apprehension as the horse suddenly picked up speed. The sound of its neighing, accompanied by a shout from its rider, floated across the open space to Drizzt's elven ears. His eyes narrowed. The rider was no longer running towards them…but away from something else.

He raised his eyes to the top of the cliff over the rider's position, and immediately saw the danger. A band of horses and riders raced along the higher path, firing down on the single rider below. Drizzt's eyes widened.

Abruptly, he turned and leapt down from the rock pile. Andra watched in surprise as he darted around the camp, gathering their gear back into bags. "What the heck're you doin?" Andy demanded through a mouthful of food.

Drizzt only answer was to snatch her empty bowl right out of her hands and stuff it into his knapsack. He picked up her bag and shoved it into her arms, nearly knocking her off her seat.

"Hey! Easy on the merch' you hormonal pixie."

"Come _on!_"

"Wul good grief…" She scrambled to her feet and dragged her duffle bag along to where he was saddling the horse. Right as she got there he decided he wanted the bag back, and promptly yanked it out of her hands. He packed it onto the horse and was up in the saddle before she even had a chance to glare.

He held out an impatient hand—which she only reached for reflexively—and suddenly she was in the saddle, snatching fistfuls of his cloak as the horse shot forward at full canter.

She glanced back once, and then she understood. Her eyes widened as she saw the group of horses thundering along the path overhead. "Drizzt!"

He didn't answer. As Andra watched, the band of riders came to a narrow path leading down to the main road. Amazingly, they took their horses down and hardly even slowed. "Uhh Drizzt!" …Would it kill him to answer her?

Now that the group was on their level of ground, she could see them more clearly. There were close to ten of them, some wielding crossbows—the cheapskates. They were chasing that rider Drizzt was so paranoid about. And quickly overtaking him. Andra's jaw dropped as she helplessly watched the riders form a circle around the man. His horse reared, he let out a shout; one of the bandits raised a crossbow.

Drizzt rounded a bend in the road, cutting off her view.

….

"Drizzt!"

The only reply was the continued sound of hooves pounding and wind rushing through her ears. "Drizzt," She yelled at him again, but all she got was slapped in the face by his cloak as the wind blew it back. Andra growled and tore the fabric aside.

"My dear goodness you pointy-eared emo kid. Listen to me _now!_"

"Andy, _what?_ I'm a little busy if you realize. And what the heck's an emo?"

"I think they killed him or something…"

"…The emo?"

"No, not the emo! The stupid traveler you've been stalking!"

Drizzt didn't answer. Once again, her ears were filled with the whipping of the wind. He didn't turn the horse around; didn't even slow. Apprehension growing, Andra started at his back in blank shock, slowly shaking her head.

"Drizzt!" she pleaded incredulously, voice laced with much more accusation than she'd intended. She heard him sigh in aggravation.

Finally, Drizzt's cold voice replied, "He's on his own."

….

— "**I'm screaming…for you."**

—"**So go on and scream at me, I'm so far away.**

**Deceiving, and bleeding for you."**

— "**But you still won't hear me; I'm going under.**

**Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies, so I don't know what's real and what's not.**

**Always confusing the thoughts in my head, so I can't trust myself anymore."**

They'd been riding for hours—so long that Andra had stopped trying to keep count of time. It was twilight now, that's all she knew. Neither of them had even spoken since they'd lost sight of Cedric, and neither had seen any sign of the pursuers. Even so, Drizzt only slowed because he was forced, to keep the horse from dropping from exhaustion.

Drizzt couldn't remember ever feeling so anxious. It didn't even make sense; there were no enemies in sight. But maybe that was part of it. He never knew if they were in danger or not. It wasn't like when he was in battle, because there he was in control. What little memory he had of the Hunter didn't even compare to this. He'd never admit it, of course, but…man, he was scared out of his wits.

But not for himself.

Drizzt glanced over his shoulder. She was clinging onto his cloak with her head pressed into his back. Andra hadn't protested any more about leaving that rider, or asked any questions at all. She must _have_ questions, but… Well. He was glad anyway. He had no desire to answer them.

The path wound around another turn, slope dropping further. They'd gradually been coming down from the mountains, back into wooded lands. As the trees grew thicker on every side, the only thing he could think of was the growing number of potential ambush spots. The tension seemed to form a tightening cord around his chest. He hated this. And since when had it been this hard to catch his breath?

Suddenly he froze, wide eyes snapping upward. There were hoofbeats coming from behind.

Drizzt's breath returned with a gasp. He kicked the horse's sides and drove it forward at full speed again. Andra was asking him something—'what's going on' or something like that—but her voice was drowned out in the wind. There were other noises too: angry shouting and voices calling to each other. The pounding hooves pressed in closer, and Drizzt realized with horror that they were coming from the trees. This time, his paranoia had been right on target. They were ambushed.

"Drizzit!" Andra screamed, clawing at his cloak. She could hear everything at once, but there was nothing for sight except fleeting glances of dark shadows. The orange light of torches pierced the black darkness, throwing shadows, flickering just long enough to let her see another threat. "_Drizzit!_"

He heard, but he was too busy trying to think. He couldn't be sure, but…the path ahead—he had to remember… Twilight was so con_fusing_—he couldn't use infrared or the light spectrum to either one's full advantage. He couldn't tell really where they were… The caves were ahead, right?

Something smacked into the ground several feet beside them. Another flew past his ear. They had crossbows… "Andra— duck down! Hold on to me!"

Scared mindless, she was only glad to finally hear his voice—she immediately did what he said. She put her arms around his waist and squeezed tight, trying to hide in his cloak, to escape from the sounds. How long could it last? She squeezed her eyes shut and held onto Drizzt as if he were life itself, wishing it would all just _go away_…

And then she realized…there was no more noise.

Andra slowly raised her head off his back, not quite daring to release his waist. There were no more torches, either. What happened? "D…Drizzt?" He didn't answer. It was maddening. "_Woman! _You are going to _answer_ me, right now! For life's sake, _say_ something!"

"I…I lost them…"

Andra's anger vanished. He sounded completely astonished, but most of all…scared. "You…lost 'em?"

"I think they—" He cut himself off with a painful cry, lurching sideways so that Andra actually had to pull him back into the saddle.

"Drizzt? What happened?" He only groaned, sounding annoyed now—but she heard the pain, too. She repeated herself louder, knowing it was the only way she was going to get any speech out of the annoying jerk. His answer, though, was still disappointing.

"N-nothing…" Drizzt reached up to his shoulder, and his hand met the shaft of a crossbow bolt. And that wouldn't have been so horrible, except…he felt drowsy. Drizzt growled angrily, taking up the reigns in both hands. "How…how on land or sea, did ordinary mountain bandits get ahold of _drow bolts_?"

"Drow bolts…" Andra repeated to herself, trying to understand.

"Freaking drow bolts."

"…Sleeping darts!" she squealed, as the answer finally clicked.

Drizzt cursed under his breath and spurred the horse on faster. It was no _dart_, to be sure, but it was coated in the foul sleeping poison of the drow. But it seemed that would have at least one bit of luck, after all, tonight. He'd been right; he saw the caves up ahead. They'd come to a section of the path where the mountain broke one last time through the trees. On their right side, if you went off the trail a bit, there was a complex of two or three small caves.

Drizzt yanked the reins to the side, steering the horse right off the path. They went down a short incline and Drizzt stopped. He virtually leapt out of the saddle, reaching back up for Andra. She already had her arms stretched out for him.

Drizzt gasped through his teeth as he lifted her. His right arm refused to work properly and collapsed, nearly causing him to drop her. She asked again what was wrong, but he hushed her sharply, taking her by the arm to drag her towards the closest cave.

"Go!" he hissed, shoving her towards the dark hole.

Andra stumbled when he let go. She stared after him, gaping in terror. She held her arms close to herself, suddenly feeling very small and alone. He was turning away, heading back for the horse. "W-wait, wh…where are you going?"

"Get in the cave." He didn't even turn around or stop walking. He was nearly back to the horse.

Andra shook her head, horrified. "But…_what?_…Y-you can't—"

"I can."

Andra's fingers curled into fists. Through the fear, her eyes gazed intensely on his turned back. Her voice was breaking, but it didn't affect the determination as she screamed, "STOP!"

Drizzt stopped. He bowed his head, not speaking, not turning to face her.

Andra forced herself to take another breath past the knot in her throat, past her clenched teeth. "You _can't…leave_ me."

And now, Drizzt did turn around. The moonlight splashed pallid shadows across his face, showing her a black mask so foreign and filled with rage that Andra was silenced immediately. "_I told you GO!_" he bellowed hoarsely—with the most terrifying voice she'd ever heard produced by man or beast.

She turned and fled, running full-speed for the cave.

Drizzt leaned against the horse, panting, staring at the dark entrance after she'd disappeared. She'd stay in there now, for sure… She'd be safe. Drizzt pulled himself onto the horse, wincing with the effort. His muscles were slowing down; his body was slowly becoming unresponsive. Stupid poison. He had to move fast, draw them away… How far could he run before he had to give in to that glorified stick in his shoulder?

…Far enough. He could make it far enough.

Drizzt took up the reigns, looking back once more at the cave. "...I'll come back," he whispered. "I'll…try."

Drizzt turned the horse back towards the road and drove it forward.

….

Andra discovered that it wasn't very difficult to do what he'd told her. Heh, yeah, there was the understatement of the year; she couldn't move if she _wanted_ to. She wanted to be _able_ to, but…she didn't want to. They were very different things.

In any effect, here she kept herself: stuck to the wall like an NFL FatHead. After Drizzt had ridden away, not even telling her where or why, nothing had happened at all. She was blind and deaf and paralyzed. It was hard to tell how long she'd been here—long enough for the sun to finish setting and the moos to rise. She didn't even know if he was in trouble, or when he'd be back… He was coming back, right?

Crouched in the farthest crevice in the cave, her main concerns became quieting her breath and taking up as little space as physically possible. It was so hard to keep her breath under control, but…she thought she was doing an okay job. I mean you know. Sorta.

Suddenly she froze. That sound…from the mouth of the cave. Andra's eyes, useless in the dark, widened in terror as a jolt of fear seemed to pierce through her lungs. It took every ounce of her willpower not to make a sound. There was another noise—something like a footstep, but it was so light she couldn't be sure. She could barely hear anything over her _stupid_ heart.

Then, unmistakably, there was the sliding sound of metal scraping metal. A sword being unsheathed.

Andra clutched the dagger Drizzt had given her, back when they were in Iasair. She would have to strike first; she stood no chance against an opponent who could _see_ her. Another footstep—so close she imagined she could reach out and touch the person from where she hid. She wanted to cry. Her heart raced, sending waterfalls of adrenaline rushing over her ears. It was deafening. '_Move, Andy…you worthless little stupid…Move _now_!' _

And she actually did. Silently, Andra exploded from her hiding spot, dagger slicing blindly ahead through the dark and empty air.

A hand grabbed her wrist. There was a rustle of cloth and the scuff of boots on stone. A hand was planted on her back, shoving even as the fingers clamped around her wrist gave a sharp flick. She squealed in pain as her hand was forced to drop the dagger. Andra gasped, helpless as she was spun completely around with her arm twisted behind her back.

Andra screamed. She couldn't help it—she yowled like a tomcat. She thrashed and growled and squealed, kicking against the impossible restraint. Her attacker's grip was like iron—she couldn't get free. She had to get away—she was running out of time!

"A-Andra…"

"_Get off get off!_ Let me _go!_"

"Andy, stop!" She screamed again, a high-pitched angry yowl that hurt her throat. She tried to twist away, jerking her arms away, but with the grip he had her locked in, it hurt her arm to move. Her left wrist was held high above her head and her right was between her shoulder blades. She sobbed helplessly, _"Please! Let me go!"_

"_Cosain!_" Whoa. Hold up. She knew that voice.

Andra calmed down and stopped struggling. Her hands were released, allowing her to finally untwist her poor arm. She hissed through her teeth and rubbed her aching shoulder, finally turning around. There stood her guardian drow, panting and wide-eyed, shaking his head in disbelief. Andra gaped, unable to believe her eyes. She'd just…she nearly _killed_ him!

Andra stuttered over about a million apologies, but wasn't able to get a single word out. But Drizzt gave a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Alright…alright, I see how it is…"

Andra shook her head, confused. "What do you—"

Drizzt shook his head in mock disappointment, tossing up a hand as if helplessly. "Try to kill me, will you? After all I've done! Smart job, that. Who would teach you how to catch a boar?" And then he cracked a wry, _weasely_ little grin. Andra finally caught on.

She groaned in relief, all fear washed away. "Good _grief,_ Drizzt…you could have warned me or something."

He was busy collecting her dagger from where it had been thrown. "_You_ needed warning?" He handed the blade to her, a wide smirk on his gray lips. "Who got jumped from behind?"

"Well you ad_apted _pretty well. And what the heck took you so long? I was scared out of my mind waiting for you!"

Drizzt gaped incredulously. "Well I'm so sorry, Andy, but it takes quite a while for _poison to wear off!"_

Andra stopped mid-rant. "Wait I forgot…Are you ok? You got hit, didn't you?"

"I-It wasn't bad, don't…Don't worry. I'm alright."

Andra was not convinced. She saw that blood on his shoulder. She opened her mouth, already forming a protest, but before she could say anything, Drizzt cut her off with an upraised hand. Alarmed for soem reason, he spun toward the cave entrance. Before Andra could ask what was wrong, she heard it too. There were voices from outside, yelling at each other. Drizzt suddenly smacked a hand over her mouth. She glared incredulously with a muffled snarl, suppressing the urge to bite his finger off.

From outside came snatches of shouted sentences: "…that skinny-headed elf brat!…" "…if he's in the way—I want that girl!" "…see 'em! I see 'em goin down the hill!…" "No ye ain't, stupid; they're in 'at cave!"

Drizzt cursed under his breath and spun around. Andra squealed in surprise as she was yanked by the arm, Drizzt dragging her further into the cave's shadows. He spun her against the wall, ignoring her whispered protests, and randomly started digging around in his pockets.

"What the heck are you—"

"Ah—here!" He cut her off with a sharp whisper. Something small and metal was pressed into her hand. She realized it was a necklace when she felt the chain tangled around her fingers. "Put it on. Quick, okay."

"What the heck…" she squeaked, bewildered, even as she jerked the chain over her head. "_Why?_"

"We have no choice. I was supposed to wait for Bruenor, but…"

"Wait for what! Quit talkin all mysterious and guardian-like and gimme a straight answer for on—"

"Andy."

"What."

"_Shut up and wait!_"

She did, even though she had no clue what she was waiting for. But it wasn't long before she found out. The necklace suddenly felt hot against her skin. She looked at it in surprise, picking up the pendant. It started to glow with bright amber light, stinging her eyes—which were, quite notably, the same color. With the new light she could see its shape: a fan of three metal feathers, inset with an amber-colored jewel. That's where the light came from.

As Andra was captivated, gaping at the pendant in awe, Drizzt gave a low sigh. He was staring with a mix of gravity and knowing. "I thought so…" the drow whispered, eyes locked on the glowing jewel.

Andra looked up, bewildered. "What…? What's it mean?"

"Tell ya later."

Andy squeaked in surprise as she was dragged forward once again. Drizzt shoved her back into the crevice she'd been hiding in, pointing a finger in her face. "Stay."

"Hey! Hold up! Where are you going now?"

"Stay, I said! Good dog." And he was gone.

Andra only stared after him, gaping indignantly. "Good dog…?"

….

"**Don't want your hand, this time; I'll save myself.**

**Maybe I'll wake up for once.**

**I'm going under, drowning in you.**

**I'm falling forever.**

**I've got to breathe, I can't keep**

**Going under."**

She didn't like the sound of things out there. There was plenty of fighting. Swords against swords, against wood…against flesh… Andra had read about death. Intentional death. She'd read it in Salvatore and Poe and Stephen King. It never bugged her. She knew it would now. But she thought of Drizzt, and how things were suddenly getting quieter out there… Had he killed them all? Been killed? She waited, trying vainly to see through the pitch-blackness. Her only sight was her ears, and they did not tell her good things.

Drizzt's painful cry. Grumbly shouts of triumph. "What for it now, elfling?" She heard defiant growls and the muffled sound of fists landing blows. "Fancy swords're no help if ye cain't use yer arms right!"

Suddenly there was clearer, more intelligent voice: "Shuddup and hold him! Gloatin' always precedes defeat. N' hand over that rope."

Andra couldn't stop a terrified squeal. They'd caught him. Another bolt of fear spiked up her spine when she heard: "You—go'n check the cave."

Unexpectedly...she wasn't frozen this time. She could think and all. Maybe because this time, she actually knew what was going on. What the situation was. There was nothing for it. She was going to be found. So if her cover was going to be blown anyway…may as well make an advantage out of it.

Outside the cave, the old streettier stood over his beaten captive, leering down at him. Three of his 'friends' had the dark elf on his knees, in the process of tying his hands behind his back. Finally, his quarry: caught. This was to be fun. "Now," he rumbled, putting his scarred face level with the drow's seething, silent eyes. "You'd be havin something o' mine, wouldn't you?" He was interrupted by shouts of alarm from the cave. Careful not to let Drizzt get out from under his boot, he stood up to glare at the entrance. He could hear his man's deep timbre shouting angry curses, and over that, something utterly unearthly, yowling like a demon banshee-cat.

"Tohlin!" Cedric snapped toward the cave. "Black powder, what's goin on in there?"

Tohlin answered by appearing at the mouth of the cave, staggering with the weight of the savage monstrosity that was now clinging to his back. The feral girl had her legs wrapped around his waist and one arm choking his neck, securing herself so that her one other arm was free to wield a flashing dagger.

"Tohiln!" Several of the men around ran that way, dancing around the man, trying to pry the girl off without getting in range of that whipping knife of hers.

Cedric, though, he was standing back, observing the scene…and laughing his bloody head off. He felt the drow moving under his boot, trying with renewed vigor to get away. Ced, still laughing, stomped harder on his wounded shoulder, causing him to grimace in pain and writhe away from the pressure.

It wasn't long before they had her pinned to the ground. It took at least four people to get her there, but only one to hold her.

Andra struggled under the pressure of a very large man's knee, which was currently making a nice home of her aching back. Between that and her face in the dirt, it was very hard to breathe. She went on screaming, though—anger, fear, pain, sobbing helplessness, anything to make noise. Thrashing about like a possessed person, she left quite a few little scratches and bruises and even managed to bite one of them when they tried to put a rag across her mouth. A lot of good that crap was going to do her. She couldn't even cause enough damage to spite them. This was exactly what Drizzt had tried to prevent...

Drizzt looked on with mounting horror and fury, trying to call out through the gag they'd tied onto his mouth. Arrow-wound be forgot—he was going to struggle until his arms fell off. He bucked against the impossible weight of three men, twisting around to one knee so that the other leg was free to kick someone in the face. All it got him was unwanted attention from stupid old Cedric. The grizzly bear of a man took the pommel of a very hard sword and gleefully slammed it down on his head. Drizzt slumped forward with a muffled groan, suddenly unable to comprehend anything past the black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

Andra saw. Helpless though she was, Andra could still see. The giant old man lifted his hand against Drizzt—she heard the sickening crack when the sword hilt connected with his head. Bright red blood splashed across his snow-white hair.

_'…Change.'_

Andra's screams began to fade. Something primal was rising in her…she couldn't acknowledge it, but she could feel it. She could…revel in it. Embrace it. A feeling of fire. Instinct, leading her to power. Andra's screaming had stopped. It was replaced by her hoarse, growling breaths. Power, growing until it would explode, tear her apart from inside...

"Oi, Ced! What's goin on wit this'n?"

Her pupils became little more than pinpoints, shrinking until they vanished altogether, consumed by an eerie reddish glow. Suddenly her vision was tinted with a bright amber fuzz, blurring shapes, doubling lines.

_'Move.'_

She barely registered telling her arm to move, but suddenly it was free. She sliced her hand through the air and connected with skin. Voices called out a panicked chorus around her.

"_Augh!_—Gah, she's got another knife!" "Ain't no knife—that's 'er hand!" "Is them claws?" "Lookit, her eyes is glowin!"

Andra couldn't hear them anymore. Her ears and eyes and mind were filled with only that irresistible golden-red light. Beautiful, warm, powerful fire. She tore another arm free, and suddenly it seemed infinitely easier to move than it had before. She planted both hands on the ground and shoved. The man toppled right off her back.

_'Fight.'_

"Stop her! Stop her _now_!" Cedric screamed at his men. But the bandits were beyond point of taking orders—especially from someone like Cedric, who they'd just picked up off the road hours ago.

Andra was busy wreaking havoc among the men. They tried to restrain her. Restraint…was her bane. She was free—she had to stay that way. They wanted to take it from her. Shove her face into the dust again. Andra's eyes narrowed and she growled viciously. She launched into attack, moving mainly on all fours to trip the men, before jumping up to latch onto ones still standing. She never stayed in the same palce for more than two seconds.

Having seen quite enough of the feral creature, the bandits started to run—including the ones holding onto Drizzt. But the drow didn't move to get away. His face hidden by his long hair, it was impossible to tell if he was even still awake. The only thing left holding him was Cedric's boot, still grinding down on his wounded shoulder.

"You idiots! They'll _both_ get away!"

Left alone, Andra's eyes flickered with light as they searched for new foes, pulsing in time with the necklace that danced on its chain around her neck. That burning gaze snapped towards the source of Cedric's bellowing voice. A vicious scowl revealed canine fangs as she snarled again. It was no human sound. She crouched, prepared to spring, arms held out at the ready, fingers curled into talons that brandished her blood-dripping claws. Cedric suddenly appeared alarmed, as he held up his sword for a meager defense. It gave her pleasure. To be feared. To be able.

Andra moved. The ground beneath her feet was torn away with the incredible, inhuman speed. She leapt and tackled her target through the air, landing in a crouch on top of his giant chest. Drizzt, who'd been held up only by the man's boot on his shoulder, toppled forward and lay unmoving. Andra's eyes turned his way.

_'Protect.'_

She stayed one second longer, putting her burning eyes right into the man's scarred face. Her deep growl was as clear a threat as ever had been issued by human or beast. And then she was moving again, kicking him in the stomach to launch herself away. In the same movement she scooped up her fallen drow and, throwing him easily over her shoulder, dashed away with a trail of dust at her heels.

….

His head was killing him.

That was the only thing he could think about as consciousness slowly returned. Throbbing, stinging, ext_remely_ annoying. With a groan, he raised one hand to his head, but jerked it back with a hiss of pain. Managing to open his eyes, he looked at his fingers and saw blood. Well. There was his wound. Where'd _that_ come from?

Then he remembered. Something about bandits. A guy named…Ced. A fight, obviously, and being captured…being helpless to save her…

"Andra!"

He sat bolt upright with a gasp. He immediately regretted it. His head blossomed with renewed agony, more of those little black sparks erupting across his eyes. His own cry of pain allowed him a focus to latch on to, to keep from blacking out again. He rested his forehead on his knee and waited until the dizziness cleared. When it had, he lifted his head and looked around. He was surrounded by trees. And he could tell that because he could see now; it was daylight. Some time around…Ugh. He didn't know. It hurt to think.

When he looked to the side, his eyes widened in alarm. Andra lay with her back to him several feet away, covered with dirt and…and good grief, there was blood on her… He crawled to the girl's limp form, trying to ignore what pain it caused him to move. "Andra…" He reached out to shake her shoulder, but she didn't respond. "Augh...Andy, you _jerk_…"

He tugged on her arm and rolled her over. To his immense relief, a quiet groan escaped her. She was alive. Maybe not alright, or safe, but… Drizzt sighed, dropping his head onto his arm. Man, he was tired.

…What had she done? Drizzt didn't remember bringing them here. It had to be her. Actually, he couldn't remember much of anything, except how crazy hilarious she'd looked hanging onto that guy's back. Man did he love this kid. She was a wildfire, that one.

Finally, something clicked. He'd given her the necklace.

Drizzt groaned in realization, rolling over onto his back. "_That's_ what you did…" So it was probably bandit blood. Not hers. He hoped.

As he peered into the one clear piece of sky above him, the brightening morning sun stung his eyes. Did wonders for his headache. He turned his head to look at Andra instead. He could still see little fangs in her open mouth.

Drizzt closed his eyes, a tired grin breaking his grey lips. "Yeh…Good dog…"

….

* * *

**A/N:** HAH! I did it^^ Sorry for the wait... If I have any readers left, let me just say: I freaking love you people. I'm sorry!

Lyric headings: "Weathered" by Creed and "Going Under" by Evanescence. I had to mix up the Going Under lyrics a little bit, because the first time I used them, they fit both Drizzt's and Andra's point of view. But in Andra's 'inner-beastie scene' they only fit her POV.

Disclaimer: Forgotten Realms isn't mine. I only own Andra and Cedric and the anonymous bandits. And Tohlin, who is a not-so-anonymous bandit.


	5. Secrets Away

"**Is this more than you bargained for yet?**

**Drop a heart…break a name…**

**We're going down, down in an earlier round,**

**But sugar, we're going down swinging."**

She had no idea the point at which she'd begun to wake up—all she knew was that she wished she could stop. Sleep was good. Sleep was restorative. Waking up with this demon headache was not. She buried her face into the soft…thing she was laying on, and tried to ignore the waking world. But awareness wouldn't leave her alone.

Finally, Andra was fed up with fighting for rest. She raised her aching head, trying to blink enough so that the blurry scene would come into view. When did she unpack the bedrolls…?

"Hey…look who's back." A weary voice mumbled from the side, and she looked that way. She had to squint against the bright, intruding daylight. Something smelled like food; the wooden bowls were out again, filled with cooked meat. Wait…Drizzt was hunting? She craned her neck, trying to look around. The horse was back, too; he'd obviously gone out to find it. That made sense, because it had all their gear. A campfire was crackling away beside her, and beyond…oh geeze…what happened to him?

The drow lay on his own bedroll, looking far worse than when she'd last seen him. His face was pale—for a drow—and though he was smirking, she could see the exhaustion behind it. He wouldn't even lift his head…oh—oh good grief; his _head!_

"Drizzt…" she mumbled, crestfallen.

"When last I checked." He was making a deal out of sounding nonchalant, but it wasn't doing him much good with his voice all cracked like that.

Andra grimaced, running a hand over her face. "Why—why didn't you…_fix_ it?" She meant the wound—which he hadn't bandaged. Dried blood stained the pure white of his hair. It seemed an awful desecration.

Drizzt chuckled dryly. "Couldn't _see_ it." That was only half a lie. The truth was he was too tired to move, let alone bother with all that annoying bandaging. "It'll be fine. It's shallow and it stopped bleeding hours ago."

Andra sighed, burying her face into pillow that was sewn into her sleeping bag. She was thinking of the way he'd been yesterday—the monster who'd left her in the cave. His horrible anger… (By the way, why _was_ she hiding in that cave? She didn't remember a lot.) But then there was this Drizzt. He was injured and tired, but he'd taken care of her first. He was trying to make her feel alright even though circumstances clearly were not.

"It looks like a gremlin tried to eat your head," she said at length, voice muffled by the fabric.

Drizzt laughed quietly, closing his eyes. "Like you're any better. Aren't we a sight for sore eyes?"

She glanced down at herself and realized he was right. Her clothes were torn and dirty—bloody in some places. Were she less exhausted, she would've been appalled at the thought of someone else's blood caked onto her clothes, touching her skin. But as she was, she just groaned and let her head fall back to her pillow.

Drizzt brought up a hand to rub his forehead, trying to make the pain subside. It had quieted now to a dull throb, but it was still annoying as heck. And worrying. A little. Was it normal for a headache to last this long? And maybe he should be worried that he couldn't remember that…

Andra suddenly sat up with a gasp, causing Drizzt to look her way. "I remember it…the fight." She grimaced, staring straight ahead as if she could see the scene happening all over again. "What'd I do?"

"Got us the heck outta there..." The drow took in a deep breath and released a sigh. He really didn't feel up to storytelling right now, but—she deserved answers. He pushed himself upward, wincing, to prop himself on one elbow. "Andra. Do you remember the necklace I gave you?" Andra nodded. "It's not just a necklace."

Andra rubbed her eyes, trying to stay awake. She was tired, but obviously she had to hear this. Drizzt continued, "Probably it's time I tell you why you're here. Haven't you wondered?"

"Wul between the multi-planar travel and the kidnapping assaults there wasn't much time for wondering."

Drizzt consented with a crooked smile. "Understandable…Alright. So—necklace. It has origins far removed from the ordinary jeweler's workshop. Obviously you've realized it's power. Andra…that pendant designates you as a chosen cosain."

Andra felt her heart sink a bit. She thought that was just…his name for her. "There are…more?"

He nodded in reply, missing the _real_ question entirely. "Each cosain is assigned a guardian—in your case…me." He wasn't smiling anymore. He just stared into that fire. "So that they can be taught and…prepared."

Andra was suddenly uncomfortable with this conversation. "Mhm. Prepare for what?"

Drizzt took a deep breath. "Remember I told you…that cosain means 'defend.' But it's not because _I'm_ defending _you_."

Andra's eyes widened in growing realization—and in worry. "But that's…what else can it mean? I mean it's pretty literal…you know."

"Faerun is not peaceful, Andra. We pit armies against everything that fits the stereotype. Orcs, ogres, goblins —drow. Over half of all the so-called 'goodly races' are locked in constant war." He rolled his eyes a little at that. "Despicable, to be sure. But the point is: we're losing."

Andra lay her head down, looking at him sideways. War was supposed to be immensely more horrible in life than it was when you read about it. But…she had Drizzt, right? And the others, once she met them. You could survive anything, all the horror in the world, if you had friends to share the suffering. "What's that got to do with the necklace?"

Drizzt picked up a random leaf and started tearing it into little pieces as he talked. "Bruenor was being overrun from underground. We'd seen peace so many years…Turns out the hoards were waiting. Hiding in their holes for years, just…_breeding_. So now they're coming at once. Don't know what happened with the drow, but the duergar surely couldn't stop them. They were…" There was far-away pain in his eyes now, as he murmured softly, "There are no more duergar."

Andra's eyes widened. That meant…even Belwar…_What!_

"At first…First Bruenor wouldn't accept any help. He said it was a matter of time; they could turn it around. They were dwarves and it was their home. He refused to even _need_ help. Until…then there was…"

He blinked several times and swallowed, and Andra was astonished to hear his voice cracking. "Ah, there was…an ambush. Off-guard, outnumbered, all that. Regis wasn't even supposed to be there. Just he…wanted to make sure Bruenor didn't…" He cut himself off with a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "It's so…predictably ironic…"

"You'd think by now it'd be less…Augh, I dunno. Less." Drizzt dropped his eyes, staring blankly into the fire. Andra was at a complete loss. She wanted to say something—condolence, you know… But what the _crap_! Regis. _Regis. _Of all people. Nothing was ever supposed to happen to _them_. But...Drizzt had warned her of that. That's just what he was talking about, wasn't it? "_Anything can happen to anyone, even a main character..."_

"Well. Bruenor became convinced. Sure does take a lot to get through that head of his…" The leaf he'd been tearing at was crumbled into flakes. He released a deep breath, staring at his empty, still hands. "Hope it was worth it."

Fed up with that old wound, Drizzt quickly moved on. "Bruenor finally sent us to get help—from Cadderly, naturally, him being so wise. His words were that he couldn't hope to hold enough power to help us on his own. But he told us of an ancient race, who'd kept themselves secret from the world for ages, because of their incredible power they had to 'keep out of the wrong hands,' or some such. Dílse, they are called. They're a forest people, so attuned to nature that they're born with physical characteristics of the animals of their environment. Tails, ears, scales, feathers. That sort of thing."

Andra was hardly focused on what he was saying. Belwar _and_ Regis? Who was next? What if…oh wow. What if it was Drizzt? What if it was her? She didn't like this. She wanted an author. She wanted Salvatore, because Salvatore would never allow a Companion of the Hall to die.

"By result of a very long and complicated story, we managed to convince the dílse to further our cause. In exchange for our keeping their existence a secret, they gave us a small sample of the power they hide. The necklaces—or as the dílse call them, cúram.* As a 'secret weapon' or some such."

Dumbly, Andra glanced down at the chain around her neck. Cúram. She picked up the crafted metal pendant, holding it gently in her palm. It was cold now, but she vividly remembered its bright, warm glow. Irresistible. Andra shuddered at the memory. She liked it, but it scared her. She'd been so out of control. It had to be dangerous, right? But then, it was the only reason they were free. She'd saved them with this.

Drizzt shifted, grunting with the pain it brought to his head. Man, he was tired; he had to lie down. He settled his aching head into his cloak/pillow and forced himself to keep going with the story, his voice a croaking monotone. "Each one is conformed specifically to its cosain, who could be anyone—a young man or woman from any race. They have to be young, because they say youth is more recipient to knowledge. Apparently the dílse have never met a teenager before." Andra glared at his ensuing grin. Thought he was real funny, didn't he?

"Somehow—I never asked details—the dílse find and choose who the cosain are, and pair them with a guardian. The guardians are given pendants of our own; we have to use them to find the chosen child." Drizzt reached to his neck and pulled on a chain, holding it up briefly for her to see. A blue gem was set amongst twisted silver vines. "Guardian pendants are all alike, but each cúram is different. To a one they are formed by a dílse Landrunner, who must offer a part of their essence to form the gem. A cosain is bonded profoundly to the Landrunner, though they have never met, and wields the power of the dílse who created their cúram. The power of transformation into the cosain form. Again, different for each."

Andra suddenly cut in. "What's a Landrunner?"

"Mm? Oh...it's a dílse title; it signifies duty and power. I'll tell you more of them sometime, if you wish."

Andra nodded. She wished right now. And she wanted to know what her own 'transformation' looked like, too. But it was just a little more important to find out why she'd turned into a gremlin yesterday. Do not get wet, do not feed after midnight.

Drizzt went on. "Your dílse shared her spirit with the fox, so your form also resembles a fox. You'd like her, I think. She was your brand of crazy. Crazy-_looking_, as well. Had paws and whiskers and everything." He paused to grin when he heard Andra's quiet laugh.

But his smile couldn't hold. Drizzt turned down his eyes, suddenly unable to look at her. "So...there's your background. You understand now what I said. Back in Iasair?"

Andra could only nod. An instrument of war? That's what she was? Well…That was alright, but…how the heck was someone as gimp as her going to be any help? She doubted she could even _survive_ a war. Let alone protect anyone.

Drizzt shook his head, voice dropping so low she could barely hear. "…I hate this for you."

For several moments, they both just lay staring into the fire, listening to the crackling logs and far-away birdsong resounding from the trees. Andra once again picked up her pendant—her cúram. She ran her fingers over the fan of metal feathers…but then she looked closer, her thinking crease forming between her eyebrows. They weren't feathers at all. Those were three swiping claws. That made sense; her dílse was a fox, not a bird. Her dílse… Andra felt a sense of joy daring to bud inside her. She was chosen. A chosen cosain, selected specially to wield the essence of a dílse Landrunner for a task no one else can complete.

But her newfound elation soon was tempered. Something didn't fit. "Why…why me?"

Drizzt looked up to see her fingering the pendant in her hand. His mouth opened, searching for words, but he came up with nothing. Finally he just sighed and looked away. "I am sorry."

Andra shook her head, quickly correcting, "No—it's not that I don't want it…I'll do it, duh. I really don't know what _use_ I'll be, but… Anyway I meant: how did _I_ get chosen? If I'm not from here. You know?" He nodded, and Andra was relived that he understood her. She wasn't the best at conveying…thoughts. Or words. Or communication.

Drizzt put one arm behind his head and looked up into the sky, apparently thinking. But then he sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "A-Another time, Cosain. Right now I don't…much feel up to it…" His voice trailed off, his arm falling limply at his side. He didn't move for several moments, and Andra noticed his breathing was getting all slow and patterned, like when someone falls asleep.

Andra smiled tiredly. She'd probably exhausted him, making him talk so much. "Sorry," she mumbled, resting her head once more. He had the right idea; sleep sounded wonderful about now. Andra hid her face from the daylight and fell asleep almost immediately.

A long while passed before Drizzt dared opened his eyes. After he made sure she was really asleep, he reluctantly pushed himself up and to his feet. "Ah, _magga cammara_…" He wished he could lie down and sleep, but he couldn't. There was no ignoring it anymore; he had to tend his wounds. The one on his shoulder was staring to interfere with his arm's ability to move… Drizzt got the bandages from his bag and trudged down to the stream to set about the annoying job. He had yet to even _clean_ the cut on his head.

He came back wearing a ridiculous, annoying bandage-bandanna. His arm was restricted by yet more of the stupid things, running under his left arm and across his chest to over his right shoulder. It was an extremely annoying setup. Drizzt hated getting hurt. Who didn't, right? What bothered him was more the humiliation and annoyance than the actual pain—though that part was hardly enjoyable, either.

He dropped his knapsack on the ground with the other bags and chucked his blood-stained shirt somewhere into the woods. He didn't bother burying it or anything. He had quite enough work for that day without ditch-digging on the list. His headache was worsening already.

He'd returned with a bowl filled with water from the stream. Grabbing a few rags from his knapsack, he sat down beside Andra, who was still asleep. She would be like that for a while, they told him. The first transformation was a dangerous thing, and exhausting for the cosain. It was supposed to take place after at least two weeks of training, when the cosain was strong enough to handle it. Drizzt winced, thinking of what Bruenor was going to say about this. Rather, what he'd _yell_ about it.

Worse yet…He worried about what it would do to her. Was she strong enough?

Drizzt dipped a rag in the bowl and pushed Andra's hair out of her face. He scowled when he saw the huge bruise across her cheek. There was also a cut just above her eye. So help him, if he ever got hold of that Cedric…

He gently pressed the rag to her face, wiping away the blood and dirt. Drizzt had to smile when he saw her hair, which better resembled a rat's-nest apartment complex. That was _cave_woman hair. It would only get worse as she slept.

Even though it didn't matter much, Drizzt spent nearly half an hour untangling and picking twigs out of her hair.

….

"**She found a replacement.**

**I'm going through this every time that I'm alone.**

**I can't take it. **

**When's she coming back? No one knows.**

**Open my eyes, and…**

**It was only just a dream."**

As Andra slowly woke up, the first thing she noticed was how annoyingly bright the lighting was. She squinted, moving her arm as if to shield her eyes. But when she tried to bend her elbow, something pinched her sharply and stopped her arm moving.

"…the heck?" she muttered, craning her neck to look down at her arm. Her eyes widened. An IV was taped to the inside of her elbow.

Oh crap no…

Andra lifted her head slowly, wide eyes glancing all around. Modern furniture, empty modern room, a TV bolted to a white concrete wall—panic, growing inside her… It was a hospital room. Worse. It was an _Earth_ hospital room.

'_Dream!'_ Andra's frantic mind buzzed. '_Dream, it's a dream, just like the other one…Wakin up any minute now…'_

Andra would've sat bolt upright, but she found—to her horror—that she was strapped down. Actually _strapped_ to the bed! Andra wriggled uselessly against the restraints. Her wrists were held by two loops to the side of the bed, as well as her feet. There was one across her chest, too. Geeze. These medical creeps sure didn't want their patients going anywhere.

"Hey!" Andra screamed at the door, which was ajar slightly. Sounds of people and shoes clacking on tile floors came from outside. "Hey, p-people! Nurse—er whatever…_Hey!_"

A nurse walked right past her room. Didn't even glance through the half-open door. "Hey! Get back here you glorified candystriper! _Nurse!_"

Finally, someone appeared in the doorway: the same one who'd just walked past. She stared at her for a minute, then came into the room, going straight for the clipboard on the edge of the bed.

Andra gaped incredulously. What the heck was she doing? "Hey! Lady! Why am I in here? Why am I strapped down? …Why the heck is it so hard to get an answer around this place?"

The nurse was too busy reading the clipboard. Finally she looked up and said, in a really condescending nurse-voice, "Hold on just one minute, okay miss Riley? The doctor will be right with you." Then she fled, clip-clopping across the hard tile floor. Andra realized with astonishment that she was wearing heels.

"Doctor, _what!_" But the nurse was already out the door. Andra glared furiously, sputtering over words. Hot tears were pooling in her eyes. "Wh…who wears heels in a hospital! Stupid…" she sobbed, letting her head fall back to the cheap plastic-covered pillow.

Minutes later, she heard voices outside. "…hasn't happened in weeks, are you sure?" "…not just another delusion…" "Yes, completely lucid…"

Andra shut her eyes, shoulders bobbing with sobs. She just wanted them to shut up. When was she going to wake up already? What if she didn't? She couldn't be left here alone again! …Drizzt, he'd come and get her. He'd send Guenhwyvar that night and she'd climb out the window—

But then she remembered. The final nail in her coffin. Hospital windows don't open.

"Well, good _morning_ miss Riley!" Someone announced, in a very rehearsed kind of cheery-up doctor voice. "Look who's come down from outer space."

Andra turned her face away, squeezing her eyes shut. "Go away…" she moaned through her teeth.

"…Are you talking to me, or someone else?" The doctor voice asked. Andra thought maybe that had something to do with the delusions they were talking about…but then again, she didn't give a crap.

"_Leave me alone!"_ She shrieked suddenly, thrashing against the bed straps. She yowled like a wildcat, jerking and kicking wildly. She knew it was hopeless. So she fought harder.

"Nurses," the voice sighed, losing its façade to a jaded kind of sadness. "Help me restrain her."

Andra shrieked even louder, and fought even harder, as hands came from all directions to hold her down. She fought mindlessly, sobbing like a hysteric maniac. Mercifully, amongst the turmoil, she felt her mind sinking into deep blackness.

"T-take me, take me away…" Her mind slipped further down to unconsciousness. Andra welcomed that deep unknown place. She tried to sink further down, but maybe she was fighting too hard, because she just couldn't seem to fall…

"What's going on? Out of my way, stupid, let me in! _Let me in!_"

Andra gasped, snapping her eyes open. She knew that voice. She screamed desperately, trying to see past the doctors. The nurses had someone stopped at the door.

"Let him in! Y-you gotta let him in! You…y-ya hafta…" Andra suddenly felt extremely tired. She was falling again. She dropped her head back onto the pillow and stopped thrashing, her mind clouding up with a dense fog. "N-no…not now…Ahh, _please_, let him in…"

"Sedatives! Why on _Earth_ would you put her back to sleep? You bunch of _retards_—Let me in!"

She heard the doctor's voice again, ordering wearily, "C'mon, just—just let him in. She's going under anyway…"

Finally, the hands let her go. By now, her vision was going. Blackness was slowly spreading in front of her eyes.

"Andy! Andy…" A hand grabbed hers, tearing the strap off her wrist. Strong fingers laced between hers, gripping tightly, and Andra knew peace. The blackness didn't go away, but at least it stopped spreading. He'd stopped it. She wanted so badly to thank him, but she seemed to have forgotten which words to use…

"Is…is it you?" she heard her own voice as if from far away. She wished she could open her eyes, see his beautiful pitch-black face.

Chase tried to speak past his tightening throat, choked by both desperation and explosive joy. She…she recognized him…So it seemed. He had to say something, anything. Who knows when he'd get to talk to her again? "Y-yeah…Andy. Yeah, it's me." His voice was breaking. He didn't care right now, but he was crying again.

Andra managed to open her eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of his long, light hair. She tried her best to smile. But the darkness was coming back. "W-will you be here…when I wake up?"

Chase fought back the urge to cry. He wanted to scream. But what he needed now was talk to her. "When…you wake up. Of course I will, Andy. I'll be right here. I'll wait, I'll fight doctors…anything."

Andra grinned tiredly, closing her eyes. He was wonderful. No matter how terrifying he could get, no matter how angry at times...he was noble. Andra felt herself falling deeper into sleep. With the last of her consciousness, she forced herself to find one last thing to say. "Th-thank you…

…Drizzt."

Chase froze. The light drained from his face, horror taking its place. He couldn't believe this was happening again. All along…all this time it had been just another delusion. He was stupid to think it would be different this time. She'd been talking to… to _him_, all this time. Her happiness, her peace, her strength in his presence—all had come from her own dreams. Not from him. He could never hope make her as happy as Drizzt could.

He wished it _was_ a real person—so he could strangle the guy. Drizzt…he hated that evil name...

Chase squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth. She'd never seen him. Sobs racked his hollow body, tears flowing freely until they left him with nothing. He couldn't even have hope anymore.

He gripped her hand tighter, pressing her limp fingers to his forehead. Hopeless. She wouldn't feel it.

Chase slowly lowered Andra's hand to her side. He pulled his fingers from hers and stood up straight. He slowly turned away, covering his eyes with one hand as he stumbled for the door. Somebody—the doctor, maybe—took him by the shoulder and guided him gently away.

He couldn't be there when she woke up.

….

"**-And I find it kind of funny—I find it kind of sad.**

**The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.**

**-I find it hard to tell you—I find it hard to take.**

**When people run in circles, it's a very, very **

**-Mad world."**

"Andra." A voice murmured faintly, penetrating her dreamless sleep. Andra wasn't even sure she'd heard it. There was no caring anyway. She was sleeping.

"Andra, you must waken."

She was being pulled from her peaceful void. Now she was aware enough to feel starch-laden sheets and a weird crinkly pillow. Or was it a sleeping bag on the forest floor? …Ugh. Who cared.

"You can't sleep forever, Cosain." A hand shook her by the shoulder. "Andra? …Stop that; it's worrisome." Oh, was he worried? About her? That may be worth seeing.

Andra stirred, turning her head away from her pillow so she could at least breathe. She could hear a fire…That was a good sign. She opened her eyes and realized with dulled elation that she was in Faerun. Drizzt beside her, there when she woke…just like he'd promised. It had all been just a dream.

"Mmf…Drizzt," she groaned, lifting her head to look at him through fuzzy eyes. She did her best to glare, but in the face of her relief and joy at seeing him, it just couldn't hold. "You…you're a fan of inneruptin sleep, huh?"

The drow smiled—laughed, even—and Andra couldn't help but return it. "If I hadn't interrupted you'd have gone into hibernation. You've been asleep since yesterday's noon."

"Noon…" Andra mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "I slept that long?"

"You did."

Andra shook her head, staring at the ground. "I wish…you'd have woke me up sooner."

The drow smiled lightly. "I am sorry. I thought to give you rest, as we must start traveling again."

Andy exaggerated a groan, falling back to her sleeping bag dramatically. She threw one arm over her eyes, putting on a ridiculous act. "Ohh, _must_ we?"

"Yep," Drizzt laughed, reaching down to grab her hand. She whined as he pulled her to her feet. "It'll do little good getting us where we're going if we just stay put. Anyway. I'd like to get us into some better company than that of bandits." Tossing her a wink, he walked off to retrieve the horse from the stream where he'd tied it.

Left alone, Andra stared after him. The dream was fast fading from her memory, but the uneasy feeling she had didn't follow. Why did she keep dreaming about hospitals? She understood dreams about Earth, and how Drizzt popped up out of nowhere, but…why a hospital? And…Drizzt had been different that time. She couldn't tell exactly how.

Just then the drow reappeared, leading the horse. For the first time, Andra noticed his head was bandaged up. She winced, feeling more than a little guilt for it. "Where to now?" she asked, trying to ignore it.

"We go to the farming town Lomund, there to join Wulfgar and Cattie-brie. It shall be our last large city before reaching the Hall."

Andy's face brightened. "We're meeting the others?"

Drizzt nodded. "And we'd better be quick about it. Catt's like to smack me into next week if I keep her waiting any longer." Picturing that scene, Andra grinned deviously.

"I've packed everything except your bag," he told her, busy putting the horse's reigns on. "You'll no doubt want to change clothes."

Andy glanced down at herself and her jaw dropped. Her shirt was bloodstained. Andra grimaced, suddenly finding it hard to catch her breath. She snatched up her bag and ran out of camp the way he'd just come from.

Drizzt pretended not to notice, but when she was gone, he shook his head with a mirthless smile. She'd have to get used to that kind of thing. Just another grand adventure he'd force her into, he supposed. Drizzt yanked hard on the leather strap he'd been fiddling with, belting down his bedroll to the saddle.

Stupid dílse. From the time he'd heard of the great cosain plan, he'd been against it. Just what they needed in this world—more reason to ruin the youth, to harden pure mithral souls in the forge-fires of war. And he was to be a blacksmith. A cruel twist of irony indeed, that he would become such a vital part of these awful schemes. He had to be Llolth-loved for such crimes.

Drizzt hadn't realized how tight he was pulling on that strap until it started grinding into his fingers. He let go with a hiss, shaking off his hand. "_Magga cammara_," he muttered, sticking his rope-burned finger in his mouth. Stupid leather…

A muffled laugh from the side caught his attention. He looked up to see Andra, dressed in the clothes he'd bought in Iasair. She was staring at him, biting her knuckles as she tried not to laugh.

Drizzt finally realized enough to take his finger out of his mouth. "Shut up…" he muttered sourly, turning back to the horse. Andra burst out laughing behind him.

….

**The miles are getting longer, it seems,  
The closer I get to you.  
I've not always been the best man or friend for you.  
But your love remains true.  
And I don't know why.  
You always seem to give me another try.**

The road out of forest seemed to go on forever. Drizzt felt the anxiety from yesterday's fiasco returning. He found himself looking often over his shoulder, and eagerly awaiting each bend in the road. If he knew Cedric at all—and he knew the old streettear well—he knew of the old man's dogged stubbornness. And he was a loon. The last person Drizzt wanted chasing him was a crazy one.

He kicked the horse to a faster speed but still kept it pretty slow. As much as he wanted to be out of these woods, he didn't want to ride too hard; he was worried about Andra. She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after they set out, but it was like she kept switching between awake and asleep. She was sleeping now, leaning back against him with her head on his shoulder. He reached around her to hold the reins and keep her from falling out of the saddle.

As much as Drizzt couldn't wait to be out of these bandit-infested woods, he couldn't ignore a small measure of dread. Once they left the forest it was only a couple hours' ride to the next town, and there he'd have to explain to Cattie-Brie and Wulfgar why Andra was already wearing her cúram. And tell them about the ambush—which, doubtless, will somehow end up to be his fault. "_Magga cammara,_ Catt'll kill me…" He could already feel the wood of her giant bow cracking against the back of his head.

"Andra," he groaned, rolling up his eyes to the sky. "You better not be seriously hurt or you'll find yourself in need of a new guardian."

"Thanks…Your concern is overwhelming."

Drizzt jumped a little at Andra's mumbled voice. "What…You're supposed to be asleep," he grumbled, pulling the hood of her cloak down over her eyes. "Poser."

Andra pushed the hood back with an almost-laugh. "You don't know what poser means."

"Fine, oh wise one. School me in the ways of Earth vernacular." Andra didn't reply for a while, until he tilted her head back to see if she was asleep again. She was. But what vexed him more was how warm her forehead felt under his hand.

A new dose of anxiety gnawing at his mind, Drizzt took up the reigns and urged the horse faster.

When noon came, he didn't bother stopping; they ate on the road. Andra couldn't be bothered to stay awake for more than ten minutes to eat, then she was out like a light again. He didn't like it. On top of the worry, it was too quiet. It seemed like he should be grateful for the silence, though, because it allowed him to listen for ambushers.

He had no idea what had become of their ambushers. Should they decide to attack once more, he and Andra were incredibly vulnerable. Drizzt hated to think it, but he knew that he was outmatched. That much had been proven when they'd tied him down like a wild sow. But far worse than the blow to his pride were the injuries to his body. His head hadn't stopped throbbing all day and the wound at his shoulder wasn't behaving any better.

All the more reason to get the heck outta Dodge.

After five long hours, wherein Drizzt stopped only once to rest and change his bandages, the trail began to slowly extract itself from the forest's grasping tendrils. It took forever, but finally, the last tree was falling into the distance behind, and Drizzt felt as if a gnawing shadow perched on his shoulder had suddenly flown away. Only a few hours of open road and they would be safe in the company of strong comrades. His anxiety at facing Catt and Wulfgar came in second to a sore longing for their companionship.

Dusk was settling when they finally reached the large farming town of Lomund. Drizzt used the magical mask to transform back into Kandren Dulra before they even got close. When they'd passed the outskirts of farms and crop-lands, they reached the inner part of the city, where there was actually someone out there awaiting them. Apparently a local tavernmaster had sent one of his stableboys to greet the traveling pair, and to lead them to the inn and their waiting companions.

Drizzt was all too happy to oblige. The stablehand led them through the quiet town and to a decent-looking inn. This one was only an inn, with no tavern adjoined. It did have its own stables. Humble though it may be, Lomund and its structures were not lacking in funds.

Drizzt dismounted first, pulling Andra down with some help from the stablehand. She wasn't exactly asleep, but she was far from lucid. He feared it was less from exhaustion and more from that fever of hers. That wasn't good…He'd hoped it wouldn't even have a chance to develop. And it seemed as if it had no cause—unless it was an effect of her too-early first transformation.

Drizzt carried her bridal-style, gritting his teeth against the pain it caused his shoulder. His head, as well, protested at the lifting of heavy loads. He'd better not have to climb any stairs… He carried Andra out of the stables, eager to get her dead weight into a freakin bed. When Drizzt came into the actual inn, he was more than a bit unprepared for what he found.

She dominated the room, hands on her hips, beautiful brown eyes narrowed in a glare that could move the very mountains she was raised under. The way she tilted down her head, with her deep auburn hair shadowing her face, told her she was furious. She'd been waiting for him here; obviously he'd been seen by someone and they sent word back to the inn… Drizzt stood before her, injured and days late, his cosain limp in his arms, and knew he was doomed.

At the sight of them both, Cattie-brie's glare shifted immediately from expectance to outrage and shock. "What did you do!" she shrieked, coming forward and slamming her fists on the air. Drizzt flinched and withdrew from the livid terror of the woman. Andra had awakened—a good thing too, because he had to put her down as Catt shoved him against the wall. Andy stumbled away with a bewildered squeak, holding her fists to her heart in baffled confusion.

"Not my fault! Wasn't my fault!" Drizzt sputtered frantically, more concerned with his attacker as Catt put her scowling face right up next to his, demanding answers.

"_Bah!_ You thoughtless, _reckless_ little tar-faced fairy! What in heaven's name did you to do her—_and_ yourself!"

"Catt," came a voice from behind. Andy looked to the side, still yet trying to clear the sleep from her mind, and saw the giant blonde-headed man entering the room. He leaned against the doorjamb and grinned widely. "Try and avoid the black insults. He's a wood elf, remember?"

"Wulf!" Drizzt twisted away from the furious woman, darting across the room to duck behind the large man and peek over his shoulder. "Please! She'll murder me, Wulfgar!"

Wulfgar threw back his head and laughed deeply. "Sorry, my friend," he chuckled, stepping aside and further into the room. Catt was fuming, her glare throwing flames at Drizzt from across the room. "I'd rather stay clear of _that_ arrow's path."

Drizzt winced with a quiet groan as Cattie-Brie stalked towards him again. "I told you, Drizzt. Come _straight_ _here_ I said! Well there went that out the window. The two extra days of worry I could have tolerated—if you'd only come back safe and sound! Your head, Drizzt…"

"Catt," he murmured quietly. "Please, just wait a moment. Listen to me, Cattie—"

"Why! Do you ever do the same?" Cattie-Brie growled and threw up her hands to the sky as she turned away. She laid one arm across her waist and covered her eyes with the other hand. A low sigh escaped her lips. Why did he always have to do this to her? Catt was by no means afraid of fighting, or of Drizzt getting into trouble. It was only when he was stupid enough to get himself hurt that she had a problem.

"I _told_ you, Drizzt, I always tell you…Heaven only knows why I keep _telling_ you things!"

"Catt…" Drizzt reached for her shoulder, but she only batted his hand away. He opened his mouth to say something more, but a quiet voice from the side suddenly spoke up and said it for him.

"It wasn't his fault…"

All eyes turned to the source of the tiny voice. Andra glanced timidly from one face to the other. Their silence made her extremely nervous. Seems Salvatore had changed more characters than just Drizzt… Suddenly she felt very alone in a room of strangers. That is, until she saw Drizzt's face, noting a distinct amount of surprise there.

Now that she'd opened her mouth, she had no choice but to keep talking. "It was…Th-they were bandits. They ambushed us. It wasn't Drizzt's fault..." Catt looked more just surprised, but a tiny smile of wonder had found its way onto Drizzt's face.

After another moment of unbearable silence, Wulfgar rolled his eyes at both his friends. "Look now, you two've scared the poor girl," he said, coming over to Andra. The barbarian smiled at her comfortingly, trying to thaw her out. She looked like a scared faun with those giant eyes.

Andra watched him intently, staring with wonder into his sparkling blue eyes. She had to tilt her head back a little to even meet his eyes; he was so tall. "You'll have to ignore them. Cattie-Brie was only worried; we've been waiting for you for a long time." His voice was warm and youthful, not at all as she'd imagined it from the books.

She glanced from him to Drizzt and back again. "Um…kay…" Wow. Clever answer. In her defense, though, clever thinking wasn't that easy. She had been very abruptly yanked out of a very deep sleep. And then the thought of sleep triggered a wide yawn. She didn't know it, but she was swaying on her feet.

Wulfgar noticed. He put a steadying arm around her shoulders, which for whatever reason, she didn't find awkward at all. "Good grief, Drizzt," he scolded over his shoulder. "Haven't you given her any rest?"

Drizzt went suddenly stone-cold, and though he gave a laugh, it was hard and bitter. "Sure. Let's all assume it was my fault. It has nothing to do with that demon stone you all bade me hang around her neck."

This was greeted by blank shock. Drizzt looked between the others, suddenly realizing the trouble he'd put himself in. "I—I mean…ah…"

"She's _wearing_ it?" Cattie-Brie's voice was void of anger, having room only for astonishment. Wulfgar wore a similar expression.

"…What?" Andra looked to Wulfgar, utterly confused. "The necklace? I mean uh…the…cúram thingy…" Whatever her next words would have been, they faded into a quiet groan as she suddenly lost her balance and staggered aside.

Wulfgar caught her again as her knees buckled beneath her. She barely even felt him sweeping her into his giant arms. The minute her head could rest on his broad shoulder, she was out like a light. Surprised, Wulfgar paused for just a moment. How easily the girl depended on him.

He turned around, looking to the others. Cattie-Brie was looking down and away, while Drizzt's suddenly concerned eyes were locked on Andra. Wulfgar shook his head, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Such dramatics… "Alright," he sighed, heading for the doorway and the stairs beyond. "I vote: we talk in the morning. When we're rested, rational, and less like to bash each other's heads in."

At that he left, Andra in his arms. He carried her up the stairs and to a reserved room right between his and Drizzt's. Shouldering open the door, he crossed the dark room, gently laying the girl on the soft bed. She was so fragile, it seemed now. He pulled a blanket over her and, pausing for a moment, took another long glance at her. She did look exactly like the original. That freakish "portal" had done its work splendidly. An exact duplicate of her Earth body. Wulfgar, who had never been on friendly terms with strange magics, couldn't help but cringe.

Would it hold? He wondered. He didn't trust that shady wizard clan who'd invented the portal in the first place. But it had worked for seven other cosain. Except—Andra had transformed early. It taxed the spirit sorely, and hers was already in a constant effort to hold to this new body. Strange magics. Unstable. He didn't like it.

Noticing something, Wulfgar couldn't help but chuckle quietly. Her hair had fallen into her open mouth. Forgetting his fearful doubts for now, he reached down to pull her hair away from her face. In the process, his fingers brushed across her forehead. He paused. Warily, he pressed his fingers to her forehead again. "Fever…" An angry sigh escaped him. Drizzt surely had some explaining to do. Wulfgar left the girl to sleep, pausing one last time at the doorway to cast a worried glance over his shoulder. He shook his head and left, closing the door gently.

….

Drizzt stared after them, hesitating. It suddenly seemed important he follow, to see for sure that Andra was put safely into a bed where she might rest peacefully. But Wulfgar's arms were strong, and his hands gentle. Besides…Drizzt had no desire to carry her again.

The drow turned to Cattie-Brie, dreading the cold silence he was sure to endure. But he was surprised instead to meet with a sudden embrace, as she gently wrapped her arms around him. Not about the question his good fortune, Drizzt returned the hug.

"Bandits," she scoffed quietly. "Ordinary bandit morons beat the likes of you?"

Drizzt was relieved enough to ignore her unintentional stab at his sense of honor. It was intended more as a compliment, he knew. Drizzt laughed softly in reply, burying his face into her silken brown hair. "No ordinary bandits. Cedric was heading them."

Catt glanced up at him in surprise. "Runsin? He followed you?"

"Yes. They caught him as a prisoner on the road. But apparently he put that silver streettear tongue of his to good use." Here, Drizzt frowned. "And they cheated. They used sleeping poison."

"How'd they get their hands on that?"

He shook his head. "I don't know…Black market? As long as it never happens again, I don't care."

Cattie-Brie was silent for a moment. She leaned against his chest, nuzzling her head under his chin. Behind his shoulders, her hands felt more bandages under his clothing. Catt closed her eyes. "Ever I fear for you, Drizzt. You know this. Don't you?"

After a short pause, she heard his smooth voice reply. "…I know."

_Then why do you not change?_ Catt somehow couldn't force herself to speak the words aloud. After a short while she pulled away, sighing wearily. "It's late. You're hurt and tired; I would have you asleep and in bed."

Drizzt smirked wryly, raising an eyebrow. "Why, Catt. You must at least buy me dinner first."

Catt shook her head and snorted derisively. But she didn't laugh, as was Drizzt's intention. "Your _own_ bed."

Drizzt's smile fell as she walked past him. He'd only intended to lighten the mood, but it seemed he'd made it worse. As Catt ascended the stairs, he heard her call lightly, "We're not married _yet_, after all!"

Left alone, Drizzt groaned tiredly and pressed his palms into his eyes. Both of them knew it was all in jest. Drizzt would never do anything of the sort towards her, outside matrimony and her own free will. She hinted at wanting a married life, yet…_magga cammara_. Marriage. Marriage was a stormcloud, looming dark over the dizzied heads of free, youthful lovers. That's how he'd come to view it.

A necessary storm? He feared this. But surely she deserved… Well. In Drizzt's eyes, Cattie-Brie deserved the world and all its shining stars.

Both Drizzt and Cattie-Brie now knew of each other's feelings—and had for months now. Both knew, too, that there was no such betrothal between them.

…It was all in jest, after all.

Alright—enough. It was late. His head was killing him. And those little black spots on the fringes of his vision couldn't be a good sign. This crap could wait until morning. It was all he could do to drag himself up the stairs, find his room, and fall into bed. He was pretty sure he was out before his head hit the pillow.

….

"**I look ahead to all the plans that we made**

**And the dreams that we had.**

**I'm in a world that tries to take them away—**

**Oh, but I'm taking them back."**

It should have been Ray.

Cedric's mind swirled with angry thoughts, but this was the predominant one: It should have been Ray. He knew now why the elf had taken the cúram. And the skinny-headed idiot was a fool for letting his girl wear it so soon. Not only was it like to kill the kid, but they'd shown their power to him—a power that Cedric would obviously recognize. A power that should have been Raylin's. And that girl…no matter how much logic told him it wasn't her fault, his passionate angry grief could only focus on her despicable thievery. She'd stolen Raylin's cúram.

She'd stolen his daughter's destiny.

"Ced!" someone behind him called, from the camp a good distance away. "We need yer help with the horses. If you're gonna stay you're gonna work like the rest of us!" It was probably Krandal, one of the more authoritative bandits of the group. As much as he'd like to ignore the moron, he had to keep their good favor. Cedric stood from the rock he'd been sitting on and trudged back to the camp. He picked up a saddle and started strapping it to its horse.

Cedric was not above these menial tasks. The bandits' trust was fleeting, and they wouldn't allow him to "help" them if he didn't seem like one of them. The name was part of that guise—they all thought he was just Ced. On the trail, he'd managed to convince them that, since he was after the same ones they were, it would be best to work together. They'd only went along because time was short and their quarry was getting away. But they'd warmed up to him a great deal when he'd helped them ambush the elf and his girl. And they liked him a heck of a lot more when provided sleeping poison to coat their crossbow bolts.

And they'd almost caught them. He had to keep these morons around, because last time they'd almost caught them, and it was only because of the bandits' help. Strength in numbers and all.

Cedric saddled two more horses and packed up some gear, making sure to pull more than his share of weight. Hard-working men admired hard-working men. They were by no means real men, but the bandits were indeed hard-working. He needed them to see strength in him if he hoped to continue his secret leadership.

The work was done quickly, and Cedric mounted his original brown stallion—the same horse the elf had abandoned in the thieves' plaza. Someone at the front of the line gave a shout, and one by one, the horses charged forward.

Cedric rode at the front, starting out slightly behind Krandal's horse, but surreptitiously taking the lead.

* * *

* Cúram is the Gaelic word for "duty" or "responsibility."

***A/N:** Ok, so maybe this one was rushed and pretty long, but I got into it.^^ Not much happens, but I'm setting it up for next time. lol what'd you expect considering I published so soon? ;) Also! I must stress how much I **adore** reviews. …Please? The plot bunnies need feedback or they'll beat me with keyboards!

*Lyric headings (in order): "Sugar We're Going Down Swinging" by Fall Out Boy, "Just A Dream" by Nelly, "Mad World" by Gary Jules, "I'm Going Home" by Daughtry and "It's not My Time" by Three Doors Down. I had trouble fitting lyrics to this chapter…but I like those songs. *shrug*


	6. The In Crowd

"**I'm only a kid**

**In a funny red sheet,**

**Looking for special things**

**Inside of me."**

"Andra. It's time to get up."

Ugh…Again with this?

Once again, Andra found herself being pulled out of a deep sleep that she'd much rather stay lost in. Someone's hand shook her gently by the shoulder, though, defeating her hopes of ignoring them. She stirred with an annoyed groan, swatting at them blindly. "Drizzt, _no_…" she whined into the pillow.

"…Drizzt!" the voice protested indignantly. It didn't sound like Drizzt, and that was confusing, so Andra opened her eyes. Wulfgar was there instead, gaping in shock. "Such _insult_…That was hardly called for."

A bright grin broke over Andra's face. She sat up in bed, suddenly more willing to wake up. "Wulfgar," she corrected with a laugh.

"_Thank_ you." The barbarian stood up, turning around to retrieve a plate of food off her nightstand. "Really, kid, I think if it wasn't for us, you'd sleep until you starved to death."

She took the plate with a smile. This was new; usually it was Drizzt who made sure she woke up for meals and such. But he usually left soon after. Over the past three days they'd stayed in Lomund, most of the time it was Wulfgar who stayed around to at least keep her occupied and entertained. She hardly saw Cattie-Brie around; apparently most of the "errands" fell to her. From what Andra saw of her, though, she was nice. Her first impression of the woman had been less than complimentary, but Andra was never one to hold on to first impressions. They were nonsense. Catt was a strong woman with a strong heart, and kindness dwelled there as well.

And Wulfgar…he wasn't at all the intimidating stand-offish barbarian from the books. She'd come very close to hating him in The Spine of the World. But he was nothing like that now. Granted, though, he didn't see very deep into her thoughts. He was sensitive to feelings, but not deeply. He tried to help, though, as much as he could.

And, more importantly: he answered her questions. "Another day in Lomund?" she asked, digging into the food as Wulfgar pulled up his chair beside her bed. Compared to his giant size, the chair looked almost miniature.

"Yep." He draped his arm over the back of the chair, reclining comfortably with his ankle on his knee. "But if all looks well by tomorrow, we may yet be on our way."

"Finally," Andra muttered, to Wulfgar's amusement. They'd decided to stay here a while and rest, since Drizzt was a shoot-out victim and Andra apparently was 'taxed of spirit and strength.' She didn't see what the deal was; her fever had broken two days ago. Probably it was because she still slept so much all the time. Andy could see how that would be a problem while traveling. Anyway, the Breylan's Inn was as nice a place as any.

"Alright," Wulfgar began. Andra smiled, knowing what was next. "What was I going to tell you about today?"

"Raylin," Andra answered immediately. As Andy had quickly found out, Wulfgar was willing to answer nearly anything she asked about. Yesterday she'd learned who Cedric was. The father of another cosain: Raylin Casting. Wulfgar had told her how the girl was tragically killed before her guardian could get her to Mithral Hall. But by the time he got to that point, it'd been late, and she'd fallen asleep again before she could hear the rest.

"Right. I believe you fell asleep on me right after Raylin was found dead." In reply, Andra only nodded, stuffing another forkful of eggs into her mouth. Apparently, that was his cue to start. He shook his head slightly. "Hate this part. But here we go…" Without any more annoying delay, Wulfgar launched into the tale, picking up where he'd left off. Raylin's guardian, a nymph warrior called Orpheus, was in the midst of finding his cosain's body in the forest where the assassins had left her.

"Alone in the desolate forest, in failure and sorrow, Orpheus knelt with his cosain. He knew before he touched her that his hope had been vain. The hour was late, but death had come soon, and Raylin was long gone from the world." Wulfgar was an excellent storyteller; she could nearly feel Orpheus's anguish. She'd completely forgotten about eating; she listened intently as the story went on.

"As he knelt with Raylin's body, consumed by his sorrow, another appeared behind. When he came into the clearing, Cedric saw nothing of reason, nothing of circumstances. He had only eyes for his lost daughter. And along with the loss, rage found a home in Cedric's heart."

Andra's eyes widened. She knew this part—this was the shift. All downhill from here. Geeze. There had to be rage, didn't there? Stupid Cedric…

Wulfgar resisted the urge to chuckle at her—wouldn't do to spoil the mood of the story. "In every loss…there is a need to blame. In hearts as wounded and tired as Cedric's, the need must be filled immediately. Here before him was his world's light extinguished—along with the one who was charged to keep her alive."

"Aw, _crap_ no!" Andra groaned. Wulfgar had to laugh, but underneath, he wondered if she remembered that this was more than a story. These were real people's lives, real people's tragedy.

"As he held the lost child, Orpheus perhaps didn't know that her father approach from behind, sword drawn, his dark eyes burning tears. But—but the more I tell this, the more I think…maybe he did know." Wulfgar shook his head, eyes far away. "Maybe he knew."

Andra was silent. The look in his eyes—it was like he knew them. And then she realized: it wasn't impossible that he did. …She hated this part, too.

"Guardian and cosain together were slain." Wulfgar went on, resigned and quiet. "Days later, when they were missed at the Halls, Bruenor sent people looking. The truth was discovered soon. Mourned appropriately. But they now needed a replacement for the pair. They took Orpheus's guardian pendant, as asked Cedric for his daughter's cúram.

…But Cedric, he didn't want to give it up. Maybe because he'd feel like he was giving his daughter up. Instead of face the truth, he took Raylin's cúram and hid himself away in a large city—by name of Iasair." Andra suddenly looked up at him with widened eyes. Wulfgar nodded. "Yes. Your stories are linked."

Andra caught herself fiddling with the jeweled pendant she still wore. She didn't like that. Raylin's story was horribly sad; she didn't want it linked with her own. "…Linked how?"

Wulfgar shifted forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "Well…on your way through Iasair, we had Drizzt…retrieve it." That obviously shocked her, so the next part he wasn't sure about telling her. But she'd have to know eventually, and…knowledge was power, after all.

Hesitating, Wulfgar finally said gently, "Raylin's cúram…is yours."

Andra was sure her jaw dropped to the floor.

A long and very awkward moment of silence ensued. Wulfgar was more than a bit uncomfortable under her incredulous eyes. "Uh…Andra? Could you maybe say something, instead of stare at me like a zombie?"

"…What?" Andy mumbled, snapping out of it. She stuttered awkwardly, turning her eyes down. "Oh I—sorry, I was just… It's just a little…" She couldn't say "disappointing," because suddenly that seemed like the most selfish thing she could possibly say. _'I'm…a freakin _backup_ plan...'_

Finally, Andra shook her head, turning down her eyes. "Heh…Just a surprise, you know."

Half to her dismay, Wulfgar seemed to buy it. He smiled crookedly. "That's to be expected. But it'll be boring old news in time," he assured. Then he stood up, his height alone drawing back Andra's attention. "I'll have to tell you the rest later. I actually have jobs today. I'm supposed to stock us up for travel, if we're to set out tomorrow."

Wulfgar offered her a smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be back later, kid."

Andra watched him go and shut the door behind him. Her room suddenly seemed very strange and lonely. As if to enforce that feeling, she caught sight of the empty chair that still sat beside her bed. Andy threw aside her blankets and got out of bed to get dressed—but first she set the chair back where it belonged in the corner.

She dressed in clothes from Earth, just because they were the first clothes she found in her bag. The hasty ponytail let her side-swept bangs hang in her eyes, but she didn't have the time to fix it. Drizzt's room was right next door, and she needed to talk to someone now, before she fell asleep again. She didn't feel like putting up with another one of those stupid nightmares.

Over the past few days, the hospital of her dreams had been filled with no one but doctors and, occasionally, her parents. Drizzt no longer appeared there. She had to see him here, because soon, he'd leave again, off on some "errand" which could really be…anything at all. Anything but known.

….

"**Who cares if you disagree?**

**You are not me.**

**Who died and made you**

**King of anything?"**

"You're leaving a_gain_?"

Standing at his doorway, Andra stared incredulously at Drizzt, who was busy rummaging around in his knapsack, looking for his coinpurse somewhere in the disorganized mess. She'd only just got there and already she found out he was leaving her again. The only reason they were still staying in Lomund was so that she and Drizzt could rest. Well, she was plenty rested enough. But _he_ was never around.

Andra narrowed her eyes in a glare. Drizzt hadn't answered, but he did finally find his stupid coinpurse. He left it laying on the bed while he went to get his weapon belt from the bedpost.

Andra had asked no questions. She'd been patient; she'd dealt with being left out and in the dark. She'd put up with it for three days. No more. "Drizzt? Where are you going?"

He glanced up briefly, but was preoccupied looking for his coinpurse which seemed to have disappeared again. "Mm? Oh, I've…I've work to get done," he answered vaguely.

Yeah. Work. She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't seem to be paying her much attention. His money-pouch was missing, after all. Stupid. It was right there on the bed. "What kind of work?" she pressed, grinding her teeth, as her voice strove to continue sounding innocent.

"Work for…errands, and…Now where the—Did you see where I put that pouch?"

"Drizzt!" she snapped suddenly, finally stealing his full attention. She stared at him hard, unrelenting. That little crease was back between her eyebrows. "I am not blind. Neither am I stupid."

Drizzt blinked, staring at her blankly. "Of course you're not…?"

Andra groaned, stalking across the room. She sat down on his bed and snatched up the coinpurse, glaring as she held it out to him.

He took it wordlessly, still just staring at her. He had to say something…It was so hard to know what she wanted to hear. What was she mad about now—just his being gone?

"Andra, I'm sorry… I _have_ to be gone so much. There are many things we need to take care of on our trips through other cities." That was true. Being so close to Bruenor, Catt and Wulfgar very often acted as his representatives. And though Drizzt met with people of a different sort, his statement still held true.

Andra huffed a sigh. He was sincere, but he misunderstood. "I know there's more to it than that, and I'm pretty sure you're not saying because it's shady. Tell me where you guys _go_ all the time!"

"Magga cam—_no_where!" Shady? Where was all this coming from? Not ten minutes into the day, _hardly_ enough time for him to do anything wrong, yet he was already under attack. "Errands to be run, people to talk to. Bruenor wants us to talk to Lomund representatives about trade. Food for mithral and whatever."

Lies, all. Andra crossed her arms, lowering her eyelids. He was babbling nonsense, trying to bore her into dropping it. It wouldn't work, man; she was focused. Suddenly, her eyes brightened with an idea. Andra smiled brightly and asked, "Can I come then?"

Drizzt stared at her, and the wariness in his eyes told her she was winning. But then, he only shook his head, snatching his coinpurse off the bed as he turned away. "No."

He ignored her indignant expression as he tied the pouch onto his belt. At this point, with so much controversy surrounding her, he couldn't take her to see the order. The cosain order—part of the real reason they stayed in Lomund—was an organization arranged by Bruenor and planned out by Regis so that guardians may more easily be paired with their cosain. This is where cosain were supposed to go if their guardian didn't retrieve them from their own homes. Unfortunately for Drizzt, the order also maintained the flow of war-pairs into Mithral Hall and into the war. He was meeting with them every day on Andra's behalf, trying to gain favor for her. Many of them rejected her already for the entire nonsense about Raylin—and having a drow guardian didn't much help her case.

Andra huffed an angry sigh. "What is it with you and straight answers? You know, this morning Wulfgar told me exactly what he was going out to do."

Drizzt ground his teeth and replied steadily, "I do far more for your good than Wulfgar."

"How? You're never here." He didn't answer, so Andra decided to play her ace. "…He also told me where my cúram came from."

"He was _supposed_ to. What'd you think—I was keeping it secret from you?"

…You mean he wasn't? Andra looked away, refusing to acknowledge that she'd been wrong. It didn't matter. If he wasn't keeping it secret, it just meant he was too much of a coward to tell her himself and had to get Wulfgar to do it.

Tired of being attacked out of nowhere, and anxious to get today's round of pointless debate over with, Drizzt swept across the room, grabbing his cloak from a hook by the door. "I should be back in a few hours. Wulfgar and Catt aren't here, so I'll be as quick as I can."

Andra growled and threw aside her blankets, storming up to him. Enough of this crap—this was getting nowhere. Andy snatched him by the arm before he could get out the door, yanking hard even though she couldn't move him an inch. "Stop! I'm sick of you dodging everything I ask. I'm not an _idiot_, Drizzit! Sooner or later you'll have to stop lying—because I'm gonna stop believing you." …She was pretty sure she'd mispronounced his name in the heated rush of words, but she hardly cared at this point.

Drizzt's jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. His eyes seethed in dark silence. With carefully controlled words, he replied, "Liar…is not a label I easily tolerate." He jerked his arm away roughly, drawing a slight gasp from Andra, and turned his back to her.

"…Stay here, Cosain. You cannot go out alone."

The door shut, and she was alone once more. Andy glared hatefully at the door, balling her fists at her sides. "Course I can. I'm a backup plan."

She didn't see what the big deal was about just telling her things. What could it _hurt?_ It's like she was some delicate piece of glass that had to be handled just right. The more she got of protection, the more she was sure she hated it. She didn't _need_ it. What did he know what she "cannot" do?

Andra stormed to the window and tore aside the curtains. Drizzt finally appeared out of the stables, once again in the guise of his wood-elf persona, and rode down the wide street. He disappeared around a bend. But Andy still didn't move, watching intently the place where he'd left.

She stood there like a guarding statue as long minutes ticked by, until finally she figured at least a half-hour had passed. She spun away from the window and went to her bag at the foot of the bed. Tearing through it, she gathered a change of clothes and her deer-furred cloak, as well as the belt and dagger Drizzt had given her.

Andra Riley was not made of glass.

She would not stay in this room one second longer. She was fine. She needed no more stupid rest. And whatever the heck Drizzt was so _scared_ of out there, she could handle just fine. It was just a town.

….

He would be furious.

As she leaned close to the mirror, fingers prodding the giant purple bruise, she knew there was no way she'd be able to hide it. It was nearly two inches long, and it would only get bigger in the time before it healed. Drizzt would be furious. No way she could hide that. Ah, _crap,_ he'd be furious.

He told her specifically not to go out alone. His talk of danger had seemed no more than his own paranoid strictness. But now, she'd met with it first-hand, and it was real, and she was a stupid idiot. And man…was it ever real. She'd been right there in the danger, stuck in that place and time, and there was no Drizzt to protect her and no magic portal to take her to safety. She only escaped because the storeowner from next door saw the erupting fight and broke it up by swatting everyone with an old broom.

Well. Lomund had been brilliant for the first five minutes. It was thrilling and liberating being on her own, if a little nervous…But then she ran into them. Just a drunk group of teenagers hanging around in an unused land plot. The only drunk person she'd ever been in the same room with was her uncle Carl, and all he did was (stupidly) call her aunt a cow and then pass out under the coffee table. But these guys weren't just stupid-drunk, they were mean-drunk. Andra had no idea how they recognized her, or why they hated her so much. All she knew was that brunette girl was one heck of a good hitter.

The girl. She'd been the least drunk, yet she was the one who'd been angriest. She made it clear that Raylin was—emphasis on the past tense—her friend. She also made it clear that Andra was a thief and a weak coward that could never hope to replace her. Andy had been completely helpless—useless. She'd lost her cúram. That was the worst. Oh, boy, was it ever the worst… She didn't even know why the brunette took it from her. Raylin—stealing Raylin's life? What was she even talking about, and how was it supposed to be Andy's fault? She wished she could get her hands on the retard...all those retards.

...But then what the heck would she do? She was nothing without the cúram. She was nothing _with_ it, apparently.

She poked the bruise again, as if that could possibly tell her how bad it was. Sucker freakin hurt. Drizzt would be furious…

Andra turned away from the mirror, knowing that there was nothing she could heal by messing with it. All the poking would only make it worse. She slammed the bathroom door and dragged herself to the bed, drawing one knee up to her chest so she could rest her head on it. She couldn't get rid of a hollowed-out feeling of fear that came from her heart sinking lower and lower. She had nothing left to do but wait for him to get back. Wonderful: waiting. It was going to take forever.

Andra suppressed the despicable urge to cry. He'd be so mad at her…

….

Despite having come from a long hour of debating with the cosain order, Drizzt returned to the Breylans' place in good spirits. His work was done, his business settled, and now there was nothing left to do but get back to Andra and relax the rest of the day. And he was really looking forward to rest. The wounds hurt less now, but his head had maintained a dull pain as the day progressed. He'd like to get out of the streets awhile.

He left his horse with the stablehands and went into the inn, mildly annoyed when he had to climb the stairs. At the door, he took out the key to their room—but when he put his hand on the knob, it was unlocked. Drizzt froze, staring at the knob. He was sure he'd locked it…

He shoved the door open immediately. When he saw Andra was still there, though, he wasn't sure weather to be relieved or more worried. She was sitting on the bed with her head resting on her knee, a golden curtain of hair obscuring her face. She didn't look up when he came in, though she surely must have heard the door when it hit against the wall.

"Andra?" He crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed opposite her. When she still didn't look up, he knew for sure there was something wrong. "What is it? …Look at me, Cosain. What's wrong?"

Andy heard him alright. For several seconds she couldn't bring herself to look up, to let him see. But the conflict wasn't going to leave just because she hid from it. She had no choice now. Andra lifted her head, not bothering to push the hair out of her face. She couldn't look at him right away, but after a moment of silence, curiosity got her. Andra turned up her eyes timidly to his face.

Drizzt's mouth hung slightly open and his eyes locked on the giant, yellowing bruise running along her cheekbone. He reached out gently and brushed back her hair, tilting up her chin so that he could see the whole bruise. He looked into her scared, silent eyes, anger quickly filling his own.

Andra cringed and felt the wretched tears finally sliding down her face. He was mad. She _knew_ he'd be mad. He was _furious_. She had to tell him the rest; he needed to know about the cúram…but she couldn't possibly bring herself to speak.

Drizzt looked straight into her eyes, voice trembling dangerously as he murmured, "Who did it?"

….

Drizzt pulled sharply on the horse's reins, dismounting immediately. He held out a hand for Andra, who took it silently and climbed down. Both looked out to the clear plot of land before them. They were here, alright. The plot was bordered on three sides by buildings, and across the bare patch of ground, several young men and two girls were lounging around in the corner between two of those walls.

"Oh, yes," he confirmed casually, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "I know these. Way to pick a fight, Andy."

He motioned to Andra and started towards the group, who were carrying on and roughing around as drunk people are known to do. Andra gaped at his back in shock, but he wasn't stopping, so she had no choice but to follow or be left alone. She scurried close behind, making sure to keep Drizzt between her and the bunch of clichés.

One of the youths saw the pair as they got closer, quickly pointing them out to the rest of the group. They rest stood up and crowded around each other, all eyes shooting challenge-daggers at Andra. She cowered further behind Drizzt, one hand grabbing a fistful of his cloak.

"They're the ones that took it," she whispered fearfully as they drew closer. Drizzt nodded to show he heard, but his eyes never wavered from his targets and his stride never slowed. When they'd reached talking distance, Drizzt came to a stop. Five feet or so separated them from the booze-guzzling hoard.

Anxious seconds passed like hours. Andra glanced up at Drizzt in confusion, waiting for him to do something already if he was going to. Man…man, this was such a train wreck. She should've stayed at the inn. Or with the horse. Or anywhere but here. But just before the point where one of the teenagers would speak up and challenge them, Drizzt finally did something. He reached up, placed a hand on his forehead, and—to Andra's utter amazement—pulled the magical mask away from his face.

Shock and terror replaced the angry scowls of the group as each watched the transformation. There before them now stood the terror of all nightmares, the incomprehensible shadow of highest evil—an Underdark drow. Drizzt stared them down, his seething lavender eyes scanning over each individual face to keep them paralyzed in fear.

Drizzt cracked his knuckles, slowly and deliberately on each hand. "Alright, Cosain," he announced loudly. "Which is the one that hit you?"

Andra managed to tear her eyes away from Drizzt, looking over the horrified teenagers. Her gaze settled on the tall brunette girl, who was busy backing into the corner with an expression of absolute horror on her face. "That one." Andra's voice may as well have been a doom sentence.

Drizzt strode forward.

The boys ran first, trying to forsake their doomed friend as a distraction for their escape. As one went past, Drizzt's hand shot out like an arrow. He shoved backwards on the kid's shoulder and, at the same time, his foot swept in from behind to kick at the back of his knee. That one fell to the ground, not hurt, but screaming bloody murder as he crawled away.

Drizzt immediately spun around to catch another boy by the back of his shirt. He was already running forward, so all Drizzt had to do was pull back and down sharply—the kid's feet ran right out from under him and he fell flat on his back, squealing like a stuck pig.

Drizzt left him there. By now, all the others had run away screaming, and the only one left was the brunette girl in the corner. She had sunk to the ground, sobbing and pleading hysterically, "I'm _sorry_—I'll leave her alone!"

Crouching in front of her, Drizzt forced the girl to look at him. "You have something that belongs to my cosain."

The girl gaped at him numbly for a moment as her terrified mind tried to think. "It…it doesn't belong to her…"

Drizzt's eyes narrowed dangerously. He snatched the girl by her shirt and yanked her forward, scowling in her face. "You punched her and stole it," he corrected, his voice a dark murmur.

The girl squealed in fright and started tearing at her pockets. She finally found the cúram and desperately thrust it at him. "Here! Here I'm givin it back! I'm sorry, _please_, I'll do anything you want!"

The drow sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Ah, the future of Faerun…"

Shoving the girl onto her back, Drizzt snatched the necklace away and stood up. Handing the necklace back to Andra, he glanced back at the girl on the ground. "Wantcha to quit stealin. Sever your 'friendship' with those deadbeat morons and stop drinking booze. Raylin would hate who you've become." With that, Drizzt turned away, sparing not another thought for the weak-hearted child.

Walking back to the horse, he replaced his mask, transforming back into his wood-elf guise. As he passed Andra, he turned her around gently, leaving his arm around her shoulders to pull her along. She still craned her neck to look back at the young woman, who was staring after them in equal disbelief. The brunette met her eyes, and Andra couldn't help but sneer at her triumphantly.

….

"**I'm searching for answers**

**Not given for free.**

**It's hidden inside—is there life within me?**

**You're holding my hand, **

**But you don't understand."**

As soon as they got back to the room, the first and only thing Drizzt did was go to the window, propping his hands on the sill, and stared out. Andra stared at his turned back, dread and panic budding inside her. Her hands fidgeted with each other nervously. She waited and waited, but he didn't say anything. Finally, she felt like one more second of silence would make her explode.

"Drizzt?" she asked, nearly whispering.

"You lied to me, Andra."

The words were chilling, but his voice wasn't cold, or angry. It was light. Like he couldn't believe it. He even laughed a little. Andra took a step backwards, pressing her back against the wall. She didn't like this…What even _was_ this?

"I'm sor—" she started, but cut herself off short as Drizzt turned around. He was…smiling. He was grinning ear to ear.

"You…_lied_ to me! You had to have been furious with me!" he laughed, perfectly delighted. She recoiled as he suddenly crossed the room, in less than two strides, snatching her by the shoulders. "Andy!…That's _marvelous_!"

Andra stared at him with eyebrows raised, her lip curling up, as if he were absolutely crazy. "Um…okay…how's that, now?"

Drizzt laughed wildly and suddenly yanked her into a hug. She squealed as he suddenly lifted her from her feet, spinning around once before dropping her onto the bed. "Ow!" he shouted, as apparently his wounded arm protested at lifting her, but it only seemed to _brighten_ his crazy mood.

"You. You snuck out! Hah! You were _so_ angry at me…that you _ran_ _away_, Andra!" Beaming, he reached up to throw aside his cloak, which he only just seemed to remember he was still wearing. "Do you know what this means, Cosain?"

"Grounded for a month," she answered immediately. "Bed with no supper. Forty lashes with a wet squirrel—anything but another one of your mood swings!"

Drizzt only threw back his head and laughed. "No! Five days ago, you never would have _dreamed_ of doing anything like this. It means…you're not a child, Andra! I mean, you are a child—because that's the only way you'd do something so awfully stupid. By the way, don't you dare ever do anything like it again. But!" He flopped down on the bed beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "It means: You're not my servant. You're nobody's servant, Andra, and _you know it._"

He stood up again, swinging the chair in the corner around so that he could sit on it—backwards. "And…it means you are willing to fight for your own rights and your own answers. Which also means you won't have to now." He propped his arms on the back of the chair and announced, "So! What would you like to know, my Cosain?"

For a moment, Andra could only stare at him in blank amazement. And then, all at once a rush of excitement and relief and delight washed over her face. A million questions and she finally could get them answered.

"Who were those kids? How'd that girl know Raylin? How did the dílse find me all the way across the astral plane? Where did you _go_ today?"

Drizzt cut her off with a laugh. "Ok stop, stop. Give me a minute. Ok…what now? Wait no, I got it. That girl was Jonni Rivers, and she was Raylin's childhood friend. She came here through the cosain order. And that is where I was today."

"There's an order?" Andy asked, to Drizzt's nod.

"Regis and Bruenor—and about a million other people—set it up. It helps guardians find their cosain and organizes when and where they go into the war."

"Oh. That doesn't seem too big of a secret," she mumbled. "Why couldn't you all just tell me this in the first place?"

Drizzt gave a slight wince. "I don't like it either, but I'm not allowed. This is very big, very overwhelming story. We can't give it to you all at once." He gave a mischievous smile and shrugged. "Apparently your head will explode or something, I dunno…"

Andra snorted and rolled her eyes. "Fine. I guess. What about the dílse?"

Drizzt paused to bite his lip, losing a good deal of his mirth. "…Full truth?"

She glared dully at him. "No. I only want half of the story, and I want most of it to be fake."

He nodded, accepting that. He deserved sarcasm. "Alright. Astral travel was first discovered by a band of gnome wizards—Bruenor's hired them as engineers for the war. Only they know how to switch between here and Earth, and gnomes guard secrets well, so the knowledge is contained safely. You can only travel the tunnel with the gnomes' preparation. Anyway, through this link, the dílse's search was expanded to Earth. Hence, you. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. Though I do think we're the only pair ever with a drow and an Earthling…"

Andra smiled absently at that. But something was still weird. "How'd I get through, then? If you need the gnomes to 'prepare' you."

Drizzt hesitated for a moment, searching for words. "Alright…alright. This one is really… You know. Brace yourself." Andra nodded, so he continued, "You didn't actually come through the tunnel. The gnomes, when they built the portal…also installed a kind of…well. You would call it a cloning machine. Is that the right word? Clone?"

Andra couldn't answer him. She was busy gaping. She stuttered over an answer, trying to form a coherent sentence in her stunned brain. "A…a _what_ now…?"

Drizzt winced with a groan. "You asked. I told you. The portal made an exact copy of your body—I don't know how, only that it worked. The only thing of yours that was transported was…your essence, I suppose you'd call it. Your thoughts, your personality."

Ok…so not only was she a replacement, and an alien, but now she was…a clone. She was _clone_. Gross…

"It takes a great deal of strength for your 'spirit' to…hold on, to the new form. Across the large distance. So…you see now, why we were all so worried. Even cosain from Faerun don't wear the cúram until after weeks of training, after they are strong enough for the transformation. You're already on tentative ground with the body-link—Oh, c'mon, don't look so worried. There have been at least seventeen other cosain from Earth and nothing untoward has happened to _them_ because of the link."

She didn't miss how he specifically mentioned "because of the link." But she didn't press it. "Has…has anyone else used the cúram early?"

No. You're the first." He released a low sigh, turning his eyes down. "I…suppose I'm to blame for that. I'm sorry. That doesn't fix much, but…well."

Andra chewed her lip for a minute, trying to think to how to respond. Maybe it'd be best just to change the subject. "Kay, I got another one."

Drizzt looked relieved. "Shoot."

"How…Well, what's gonna happen when we get to Mithral Hall?"

"Training. I'd start to teach you. You've got to learn how to fight if you're going to go through with this nonsense. But," he continued, "it will go a lot easier for you if I can convince the order to back you."

"Back me?"

"Eh…They don't like us. Of course, they have no say over Bruenor's word, and he will doubtless give us all the resources we need. But the order can provide you what he cannot: connections to other cosain."

Andra made a face, clearly uneasy with that. "Do I really need that?"

His expression was serious. "You'll be fighting alongside them. They are to be your comrades. Hear this, cosain. You cannot hope to win any war alone. Battle is as much about allies and resources as your own strength."

Andra's wince faded. She nodded silently, though she absentmindedly raised a hand to the bruise on her cheek.

"Either way you'll be able to get in, but…" Drizzt paused, shrugging resignedly. "No king's order can force the others to accept and trust you. If that worked, there would be no war to win."

"But I have to go either way. Whether they accept me or not."

Drizzt finally seemed to realize what it was she was really worried about. "Oh—they wouldn't hurt you. No. Nothing like that. None of the idiots you met today are in the order—and if they were, I'd not stop until they were thrown out into the gutter where they belong."

She didn't doubt that a bit. He'd kick them out it himself if the order wouldn't. Picturing the scene, Andra couldn't help but smile.

"Besides," he went on, flashing his crooked grin. "What's to worry about when you've got me at your side? I'm a literature legend."

Andra laughed genuinely, causing Drizzt's smile to widen. "No," she corrected. "Drizzt Do'Urden is a literature legend. He's the flawless copy."

At that, the smile all but flew off his face. But Andra didn't seem perturbed, as if she'd expected his reaction. That was new. She'd never seemed to expect anything up until now. Still. Those were sore nerves she was hitting. "Then…who am I?"

"You're the original." With eyes like an innocent faun, Andra smiled, beaming with quiet joy. "The original is always best."

Drizzt couldn't bring himself to answer, to defeat such pure and innocent belief. Belief in him... He couldn't defeat it. Because, in the sight of those bright amber eyes, maybe he could start to fool himself into believing it as well.

"Well," Drizzt announced suddenly, standing up from the chair. "Since you're well enough to go out getting into street brawls, I suppose you'll be able to manage traveling. That right?"

With a joyous squeal, Andy leapt off the bed, pushing past Drizzt to get to her bag on the floor behind him. Then she pushed past him again to get back to the bed. He had to spin a full circle just to get out of her way.

Laughing, Drizzt went to the doorway and called, "Wulfgar! Are you or Catt here?"

Wulfgar's voice answered from down the hall. "…You're happy. What disaster has happened now?"

Drizzt rolled his eyes at Andra, who was holding back laughter. "Shut up," he mumbled, leaving the doorway. A few steps took him to Wulfgar's room.

"Well?"

Hands in his pockets, Drizzt shrugged. "Andra snuck out. Ran into some drunks who punched her, robbed her, and sent her running home." Lightly, he added, "I took care of it."

Wulfgar was incredulous first. But then he realized enough to be suspicious. "…Took care of it how?"

"With heritage." When Wulfgar's expression didn't change, he lifted a hand dismissively. "Ah, hush. I did nothing that will cause a political incident or some such idiocy. More importantly, this means Andra is healthy and there's no more reason for us to stay here."

Wulfgar smirked. "You only want to weasel out of meeting with the order."

"Very true." Drizzt crossed the room, placing a hand on Wulfgar's shoulder. "Please. Don't make me return to that bickering henhouse."

Wulfgar shook his head. Finally, he laughed and turned away, grabbing his bag from the floor. "Cattie-Brie returns in an hour or two. We can leave in three."

"Beautiful." Drizzt smirked, quite pleased with himself. "And just in time. One more hour stuck in Lomund and my cosain is like to run off and join the gypsies."

"Sure it's not yourself you mean?"

Drizzt shrugged, walking out of the room. "Tried that once. They're not as open-minded as they're supposed to be."

….

"**Oh, this has gotta be the good life.**

**It's this feeling that you can't fight.**

**This could really be the good life.**

**A good, good life."**

They stopped as dusk was falling, picking out a campsite a little ways off the road. The terrain on the way over had consisted largely of boring flat land, farmhouses, and the occasional brave tree. But now they were back into the forest, which grew over hilly land strewn with rocks.

They dismounted—which by now Andra was proud to need no help with at all. Her three older companions went about the business of setting up camp, while she just stood awkwardly in the middle of things and did her best to keep out of the way. Wulfgar immediately ran off with claims of "firewood" and left in a big hurry.

"Hey!" Drizzt called after him, but Wulfgar was fast for his size, and was far enough away to pretend he hadn't heard. Drizzt exaggerated a groan, tilting back his head dramatically. "He's left us for the boring work…"

Cattie-Brie laughed lightly, pulling him to the horses. "You're only mad because he beat you to it."

Drizzt smiled and didn't deny it.

Watching from the side, Andra smiled to herself. New lights were being flipped on every day. These small things, the little in-betweens and tiny bits of personality, were never mentioned in the books.

While they started unpacking, Andy sat apart from them, needing some time to think things over. Well. She had wanted answers, hadn't she? But man…another _body_. Send in the clones… She was a mad-science experiment. She didn't even have a body of her own. And another thing worried her. The cúram. The other cosain had apparently had no health problems with the body links—ugh, would you listen to the connotation of that?—but none of them had ever put on their cúram this early. What would it do to her? She picked up the pendant and rubbed it between her fingers, staring into the amber-colored jewel.

Soon she got tired with the troubling thoughts. She couldn't deal with this chaos right now; she needed a distraction. Andy went back over to the others, hanging around petting the horses. As Drizzt was unpacking her bag from their shared horse, she noticed something falling out of the front pocket. With a frightened squeal, she pointed it out. "Drizzt! Catch it, catch it!"

"Ah!—What!" By reflex alone, he was able to snatch the small object before it could fall. He held it up, observing it with confusion. It was small and rectangular, part metal and part glass. He knew enough of Earth to recognize it as technology, but he'd never seen one before.

"Oh, good grief…" Andra groaned, holding a hand to her heart. She took the device from him. "It'd crack the screen…and I'm pretty sure there's no Apple store in Faerun."

"…Andy. That is _no _apple," Drizzt muttered. By now Catt was curious, too, glancing up rom what she'd been doing to examine the weird device.

"It's an iPod. Apple's the company that makes it." Greeted by confused silence, she realized they obviously had no idea about iPods. Poor souls… "Oh—it plays music. Hold on." Andra kneeled to where he'd dropped her bag, rifling around until she found her headphones.

She hooked them up to the iPod and held out one of the earbuds to Drizzt. He raised an eyebrow. "A mechanical pebble on a rubber string. Of course..."

Andy laughed. "Ok, copy me." She stuck a bud in her ear and left it, holding the other out to Drizzt. He did what he said and felt ridiculous for it. It was uncomfortable, too.

Andy switched the iPod on and flipped through the song list, scrolling along the touch screen as Drizzt watched in surprised fascination. She randomly tapped "The Outsiders" by NeedtoBreathe and the iPod obeyed, playing the song at nearly full blast.

"Oh what the—!" Drizzt jumped with a startled shout, yanking the string on his headphone. He clapped a hand over his ear. "Magga cam_mara_, it's loud…"

Startled, Andra stuttered over an apology. But Cattie-Brie's laugher interrupted her. "Black powder, what'd ye do to him? I haven't seen a rabbit that could jump higher."

Realizing what the problem was, Andra smiled at herself. Duh, stupid. He was drow. Elven ears were sensitive. "Sorry. I forgot you have super-ears."

Drizzt had one finger stuck in his ear, wincing. "…I'm sorry, what? I'm deaf now, you see."

"Here," she showed him the screen. "This is to turn the volume down. The song list is back here…"

She spent the next five minutes showing him the basics of iPod use, and then it was as good as gone. Drizzt loved the thing. He could only ever turn the volume up to halfway, but he carried it around in his pocket the entire time they were setting up camp. Cattie-Brie wanted to see what the big deal was, but he wouldn't give it up for more than two minutes. Andra wondered if she should tell him that the battery would eventually run down.

As the last rays of sunlight were receding behind the treeline, Catt sat down beside Andra, who was perched on a stump by the fireside. She huffed a sigh, raising her eyebrows with a small smile. "You'll never see it again."

Andy followed her gaze to Drizzt, who was spreading out his bedroll beside Andra's sleeping bag. Both of her headphones were plugging up his ears. Andy smiled as well. "I'm just scared of what he'll do when the batteries run out."

"Batteries?"

Andy explained, "The battery gives it power and makes it work. It usually lasts me three days."

Catt nodded, pausing a moment to watch Drizzt. He stretched out on his bed, crossing his ankles, one arm behind his head. Andy's iPod illuminated his face with white light, battling with the fire for illumination control.

"He's always loved his music," she mumbled. Andra looked her way, but Cattie-Brie was still staring at Drizzt. The look in her eye brought a smile to both their faces. She glanced at Andra briefly to ask, "Have you heard him sing yet?"

She smiled but shook her head. "No. I want to. I bet it's beautiful."

Cattie-Brie's smile widened. She turned back to gaze at Drizzt. "Mm. More so than the minstrels."

Andra hesitated. Finally she mustered up the courage to ask. "Has...has he always… What's he like?"

Catt looked at her curiously. For a moment, Andra was scared she'd screwed up somehow, but then Catt nodded, seeming satisfied. She answered, "It gets better. I promise. First impressions never do Drizzt any justice."

Andy nodded, looking into the fire silently. Catt stared at the girl, watching her eyes, as if that could tell her what went on inside. Poor girl had probably been through so much confusion. Catt really would have preferred that Drizzt wasn't the first to meet her. He was a personality that needed a cushion. One of those people that it's easier to meet when they're introduced by…normal people.

"I promise. It gets so muchbetter," Cattie-Brie repeated, her tone assuring. Then she smirked mischievously. "Do you think I'd still be with him if it didn't?"

Andy glanced over as Catt leaned forward, reaching out to stir the pot that now hung above the fire. The firelight illuminated a strong, beautiful woman who was not at all the young maiden from Salvatore's books. Well. Not completely. There was a subtle softness about her, and a gentle brightness to her voice. There were two women here: Catt, and Cattie-Brie. Catt was the one whose sleeveless leather vest revealed muscled arms with tanned skin, wearing thick boots and two daggers at her belt. Cattie-Brie was the one stirring soup and giving her advice.

"Thanks," Andra murmured. Catt only nodded, raising the full spoon to her lips. Andra was glad for the small reaction. A mushy "you're welcome" would've been awkward and uncomfortable. She knew that wouldn't be a problem with Cattie-Brie.

They both looked up as footsteps crashed through the underbrush of the forest. Wulfgar had returned, arms full of dry wood. He was greeted by Drizzt first, taking one headphone out of his ear. "Well there you are. You've managed to miss all the hard work."

Wulfgar knelt to drop the wood in a pile beside the fire. "Wasn't work what I was doing?" he replied, sitting back

"Well yeah, the fun part. I think the ranger of us should be assigned the jobs that require frolicking through the forest."

"I'm sorry, were you there? Then how would you know? I think that pile of firewood can attest to my work ethic just fine."

Cattie-Brie groaned, cutting them off. She motioned to Andra and pointed at the knapsack on her other side. "Andra, get me the bowls? If we feed them, they'll shut up."

Both Wulfgar and Drizzt grinned, casting each other a smirk.

Andy laughed and dug around in the bag, bringing out four wooden bowls. They all served themselves out of the pot over the fire—and it was hot and among the most wonderful things she'd ever tasted. The sun faded in the sky, the fire burned golden and sent up its rugged smoke, and Andra listened to the three comrades trading talk and laughter.

After enough time had passed, there was an unspoken consent that it was time for sleep. But Drizzt didn't; he quickly volunteered to take first watch and disappeared into the forest before anyone could protest. It was weird, because the area hadn't been dangerous, and on top of that he was still injured. And he took the iPod. Andra—and the others, she was pretty sure—suspected that it was more that he wanted to be alone. It unsettled her…but she remembered what Cattie-Brie said. When Andra climbed into her sleeping bag, she found peace easily.

From the minute she got here, Andra couldn't remember a time she'd felt complete. Even now, there were things missing. But she was happy. She was warm and secure and safe. And tomorrow they would reach Mithral Hall. She'd forgotten all about clones and cúrams and empty shoes, and now there was nothing to do but sleep and watch the last few embers in the fire pit flicker out. There was no better way or place to fall asleep.

Tomorrow they would reach the Halls.


	7. Tell The World I'm Coming Home

"**Used to think it was the only part of my life,**

**But now I realize there's a whole world outside.**

**Goodbye's too hard for me to say.**

**Is this where I belong? **

**Is this where I choose to stay?**

**My home…"**

Andra awoke with a start, jerked suddenly back to the waking world. Wide eyes looked upon her new world, which was waiting for her just as she'd left it: campfire dying peacefully, Wulfgar and Cattie-Brie sleeping across from her, and Drizzt's empty bedroll laying beside her. And beyond was the road, and the rolling hills and trees with no telephone lines to break the endless leafy sea. Beyond was Lomund, and Iasair, where countless people in cloaks and hoods burned lanterns instead of flipping on a light switch, and slept on straw mattresses while their horses bedded down in the same stuff out in the stables.

Another dream. And he was back. Just a glimpse, but enough. She'd gotten a good look at him this time…now it was clear why he'd seemed so different. It wasn't Drizzt at all in her dreams. It never had been. Everything fit…

Andra's fingers pulled her hair over her shoulder, fidgeting nervously with the long blonde locks. Faerun… She was surrounded by it, by a world she didn't know beyond this one tiny clearing—a world filled with a thousand strangers all older and wiser than she was and not one face who knew her soul.

There wasn't a single person here who knew her as "Andy." No one who waited especially for her in the gallery after school, with his one hand in his pocket and the other waving high up in the air, making an idiot of himself just to get her attention. Nobody with ripped jeans and his denim jacket with only one sleeve, and a smile that could warm the world, and a bright orange motorcycle that he drove too fast everywhere he went…

Her new world, just the same. Just as empty of anyone named Chase Michael Archer.

"No…ah, _no!_" She whispered, fists clenched around the strand of hair she'd been fidgeting with. She'd never even thought once about Chase. That alone surprised and appalled her, but astonishing was the sudden, horrible reality of what she'd done. She was miles away from anything she knew, out in the ocean, alone in the sea. No lifelines. No rafts. Plenty of water to drown in. She'd left him behind and it was impossible for her to go back. He was lost to her, just as gone as the rest of Earth. Just as good as dead.

No…he was alive, and maybe that was the worst part. He was alive and there waiting but she _still_ could never see him again. Oh, he'd be in such bad shape by now… Probably everyone knew by now that she was missing. She imagined Chase hearing the news—his shock…Later, his grief, and him angry at everything, falling into himself like he tended to, shutting out everyone. He would be so hurt, so angry that he was helpless. And what about everyone else? Her parents…how they must feel.

…What had she done?

Andra tore the sleeping bag open, scaring herself with the loud noise from the zipper. She scrambled to stand, but her feet got tangled in the sleeping bag, sending her falling backwards. Andra suppressed a random urge to sob and stood up again, stepping away from the tangled-up bed and out onto forest ground. She hissed angrily when twigs and rocks stabbed at her bare feet. This time, a quiet sob escaped her, and tears made an unwelcome appearance in her eyes.

"Andra?"

She looked up, startled at the sound of someone's whisper. Drizzt was coming back into the clearing. Andra froze, like a thief caught in the middle of a heist.

In her head she heard his words from the first night they met._ "A real world, Andra, not a fantasy or a dream."_

Drizzt walked towards her, until he realized that she backed away for every step he took. She was terrified of something…and Drizzt tried to deny the suspicion that maybe it might be him. "I heard…Are you alright?"

She gave no answer, but he watched her face shift from fear into devastation. She shook her head, wishing she could say something to him, anything to even being to explain. But what could she say to this stranger, this shadowy dream, this…this _lie_?

Without a word, Andra suddenly turned and fled into the trees.

"**Forget this life. **

**Come with me. Don't look back; **

**You're safe now.**

**Unlock your heart, drop your guard;**

**No one's left to stop you."**

"Andra!" Drizzt's hand reached out after her, black fingers touching only empty air. He cast a glance to the side, assuring that Wulfgar and Cat were still sleeping. The drow ran off into the woods, leaving the camp and his companions behind.

The light of the campfire faded fast behind him, replaced by the lonely darkness of sleeping trees. Even under the pale moonlight, he couldn't see Andra. He slowed and stopped, glancing around in the dark. There—he saw a flash of white among the darkness. Must be her hair, he thought as he started running again. Too blonde for camouflage.

"Cosain!" he yelled after her, with no reply.

His boots pounded the ground, driving him faster than he knew was possible. He rounded a copse of trees and caught another glimpse of her, just as she ducked once more out of sight, behind a thicket of undergrowth. He took a shorter route around the bushes, hoping to gain some ground.

This time, the way was clear: a wide dirt path probably made by deer. He saw her ahead, running along the trail as if her life depended on it. She glanced behind her and yelped, a familiar fearful scream that pierced to deep places within the jaded drow.

"Andra," Drizzt barked, past the point of annoyed. She was screwing with his mind, scaring him and he didn't like it. He dove into the chase, running after her again—and this time he was gaining. He put on a sudden burst of speed, determined, breath rasping through his clenched teeth in short bursts. He was right next to her now—a few more inches was all he needed…

Andra shrieked as she felt the hand latch onto her arm, yanking her roughly backwards. Her momentum suddenly stolen, she lost her balance and fell backward, right into a waiting trap of open arms.

Drizzt held onto her, wrapping his arms around her in attempt to make her stop struggling. He called her name over and over, but she just kept squirming against him. "Andra—Andra, stop!" he shouted. "It's only me!"

Andy sobbed and growled at him blindly, weakly beating against his chest, holding no coherent idea why she kept fighting. But her momentum quickly collapsed as the tears began to take over. She found herself no longer struggling, but leaning against him, depending on his embrace to even stand…she was tired of standing. Andra slid to her knees, pulling Drizzt with her. She buried her face in his chest and cried, clinging to fistfuls of his shirt.

Drizzt's commanding voice had turned to gentle whispers. "Shh, Andy; It's only me. Nothing will hurt you…" He moved one hand to the back of her head, stroking her hair. Her fists tightened on the fabric of his shirt. "Alright. You're alright…What?"

"I can't—I can't do it, I g-gotta go back…"

Drizzt tensed, not saying anything. Those may be hysterics, but they were fueled by very real thoughts. "Please…Be still, Andra. Calm d—"

"_No!_" She cut him off with a sudden, angry scream, beating am arm against his chest. "Not while I'm here I won't; I can't! Yo-you were right…I bet you love it, being right… You knew I couldn't make it! Why didn't you _stop_ me!"

Drizzt tried in vain to stop his hands from shaking as he stumbled over words, trying to find an answer. "I…I wasn't allowed…" he whispered.

Andra snorted derisively, dropping her forehead on his shoulder. "Y-you don't care…what's allowed."

He had no answer. She was picking things up—getting to know his personality. And look what it was doing to her. Drizzt ground his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. "Am I—" He was cut off as his voice cracked and broke. Finally, he just gave a hollow laugh and whispered, "Are we really so horrible?"

"W...what…?" Andra slowly lifted her head. He wasn't looking at her; his eyes were closed, trying to uphold a mask to hide some profound pain. Looking closer, she gasped, astonished and sorry all at once. There were tears running down his black face.

"No…" She hugged his waist, suddenly desperate that he understand. "I'm sorry, no…I-it's not horrible, it's…wonderful. Crazy stupid impossible wonderful. And—_that's_ why. I-I'm not…good enough to be here…I'm n—I'm not _strong enough_ to be a cosain."

"Alright, Andy. Stop with that. Right now." Drizzt sighed deeply and pulled her closer. She rested her head on his chest, taking comfort in the low hum of his voice. "_Good_ enough, Andra? Who's to set the limits on what is good enough? …Only you can know when you are satisfied with your efforts. It is…your own self who decides. What is good enough."

She had no words; they were lost in waves of guilt and divine relief. He was noble… If she had any doubts about that, they were vanished now. He was still noble.

Trying to talk around the constricted feeling in her throat, Andra croaked, "I for…forgot about him…"

He shushed her again, slowly gaining back his calm rationality. He was strong again. Good…she needed strong. "Calm down, Andy. What do you mean; who?"

"_Chase!_" Andra was well aware of the fact that she sounded like a hysteric fool. But he wasn't annoyed or asking anything annoying like "why." He only lent her strength, and a shelter where she was allowed to be pathetic and not be judged. …Wow. Remember when she swore to never cry? …Man, that was stupid. And pointless. Crying was awesome if you had someone to cry on.

Assailed by guilt, Drizzt knew only one thing to tell her. He hated it. This was the absolute worst part about lying: the confession. But he had to say it. It was the only thing she wanted to hear.

"…You still have Chase, Andra."

She pulled back just enough to look up at him. "Wha…whassat mean?"

Drizzt's face held hesitation and pain, seeing the tiny embers deep in her eyes: anger. Not at him, but at hope that was rising in herself. She thought it to be vain hope. Drizzt didn't yet know if that was the truth. "I am sorry…" he whispered, wanting but unable to turn down his eyes.

Andra sniffed and somehow managed to make it sound annoyed. "Well, for _what_?"

Drizzt shook his head and pulled gently away, leaving her on her knees on the forest floor. She resisted the urge to reach out for him. He didn't stand, but reached to his neck and pulled on the string of the wooden mask he still wore there—backwards, so it wouldn't get in his way. Drizzt brought it to the front and held it inches from his face, hesitating. Then he closed his eyes and pressed the mask into place.

Andra watched in mounting astonishment as the transformation unfolded. Slowly, Drizzt's black skin melted away to the pale tan of human skin. His hair turned gold, shoulder-length, with brown streaks interrupting the blonde. Soon, the drow sitting beside her was gone. Chase Archer, staring at her in silence, took his place.

Andra gaped in horror, dragging herself backwards and away—away from this lie, this figure of shifting shadow. She watched him bow his head to remove the mask, casting it to the ground. He gradually faded back to his black-elven self. He didn't look at her; his eyes were closed again.

Chase…was _Drizzt_? But he… No! She'd known Chase for four years! He understood her, and she understood him… She'd _thought_. How could he not be real? He was the only good thing in her world—the only one who mattered! And now it was like he… He really was dead now. He didn't exist in any world. And she still couldn't see him again.

"…I'm sorry, Andy."

Andra's eyes widened, mouth dropping open in a silent gasp.

Not one person who knew her soul…not one in his world who knew her as "Andy."

Chase wasn't dead. The person she'd known, the soul she understood, he was still there. Only he…had a different name. Andra looked up. His head bowed hopelessly, Drizzt still hadn't moved. Though his eyes were closed, she could see the looming scowl, the grimace of regret. The sorrow for them both. And the way he ran the tips of his fingers through his hair as he covered his face with one hand, just like Chase did when he was upset.

Drizzt gasped as Andra suddenly threw her arms around his neck. He stared forward in disbelief, arms held out wide as if afraid to touch her.

"I'm sorry I ran," she mumbled into his shoulder.

Drizzt hesitated. Slowly, gently, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "It…it's alright…" he whispered, unsure whether it was safe yet to feel so relieved.

"…We all must run sometimes."

….

"**And I don't want the world to see me.**

**I just don't think that they'd understand.**

**When everything's made to be broken,**

**I just want you to know who I am."**

The mask went over and over in his black hands, long fingers tracing the unmarked wood. Drizzt sat alone by the fireside in pre-dawn light, leaning against a tree. Cat was on watch and Wulfgar still slept. Andra hadn't woken up yet either and he was pretty sure he was glad for that. He thought.

She was quiet now in her sleep; no dreams. Between the mad sprinting and the random hysterics, she'd tired herself out. She'd likely sleep for a while yet. Drizzt could have his quiet solitude.

…He hated it.

He turned the unremarkable wooden face towards his own, scowling into its hollow eyes. Much as he hated to prove Robert right, he did hate the mask. But not because it was a lie to his soul. It was because he needed it. Drizzt did not like to _need_ anything.

Anyone. His lavender eyes turned to Andra's sleeping form.

How could she stand herself? Always needing people, always shoving them away. …He wasn't used to being needed. It was restricting. It was terrifying. He never asked for that. How did one so picky about relationships still choose to need someone like him?

Someone like him. He hated that phrase. There shouldn't even be a need for it—for any phrase like that. Its cousin was: "Even though you're a drow." He wished they would stop saying it. "We love you, even though you're you." It tortured him. They didn't understand how it _tortured_ him.

Andra, though. She loved him when he was Chase Archer.

With a sigh, he looked away. Really? That wouldn't last. Once she knew him, she'd be saying it too. If she didn't just end up rejecting him completely—which would be better, but he doubted she had the strength for that. She'd still love him, even though he was Drizzt. Not because he was Drizzt.

That's why he needed the mask. Not many even had the good grace to say "even though." Salvatore had been right about one thing: the prejudice. The world hated him for being drow. And that was an annoyance, to be sure. Didn't always cut as deep as Robert made it out to, really… But maybe it did. Andra's terrified scream came to mind.

Was it because he was drow…or because he was Drizzt? He immediately shoved the question away. Didn't matter. She'd forgiven him and that mattered.

So if he had such capability for inspiring fear, he should be glad for those who accepted him. And he was, of course. His friends were the world to him; he was grateful. In a world of exile, they'd given him a home and comfort the likes of which he'd begun to doubt even existed. They were honorable in that they looked past his skin color. But…tolerance and true acceptance were two very different things.

You can never really love someone "even though."

"…You trynna stare a hole through it?"

Drizzt snapped his eyes upward to see Wulfgar was awake, but still in his bedroll, propping himself up on his elbows to smirk at the drow. Drizzt rolled his eyes and hung the mask around his neck, turning it around to the back. "Sure. I hear wonderful things about heat-vision."

Wulfgar chuckled and rubbed a hand over his face, still half-asleep. He rose with a tired grunt, lazily kicking aside his bedroll. "How can you bear waking so blasted early every morning?" he mumbled, rubbing his stiff neck.

Drizzt's only answer was a shrug. Wulfgar paused to stare at him. But the drow wasn't looking his way; his unfocused eyes were again towards Andra, who still slept across the campfire. Wulfgar hesitated, wondering if it was wise to ask…But he hadn't asked questions last night, when Drizzt had carried the crying child back into camp and put her to sleep, without a word of explanation to anyone. So if he was going to get any answers at all, now was as good a time as any. "Is she alright?"

Drizzt looked at him sharply. "I took care of her," he assured immediately, voice biting defensively.

Wulfgar looked away, grinding his teeth as he suppressed the urge to choke the stupid black pixie. Drizzt was as great a companion as could be asked for—but only when he wasn't being a moody self-defensive brat. Wulfgar huffed a sigh and waved a hand through the air. "I meant well in asking," he shot back, turning away to find something else to do.

The cold edge left Drizzt's face as he turned his eyes down. Grand. Not five minutes into the day and he was already cursing things with his own mood. "…She is alright," he mumbled quietly, still watching the ground.

Wulfgar closed his eyes with a small smile. Poor guy couldn't even work up a decent apology. Luckily for him, Wulfgar understood his language of hidden words. "You found out what was wrong with her, then?" he continued casually as if nothing had happened, kneeling beside his bedroll as he started rolling it up into a bundle.

Drizzt smiled silently, watching his friend as he pretended to be focused on packing up the bed. The drow sat back and put his hands behind his head, closing his eyes with a light smirk. "Nope."

"…What? Then how do you know she's alright?"

Drizzt opened one purple eye and said, "When you're drowning…you don't say 'I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me.' You just scream."* And he left it at that, closing his eye again.

Wulfgar shook his head in wonder, but didn't bother with a reply. He just went back to packing up his bedroll.

….

"**Isn't anyone trying to find me?**

**Won't somebody come take me home?**

**Take me by the hand,**

**Take me somewhere new.**

**I don't know who you are, but I…I'm with you.**

**I'm with you."**

When she woke again, it was on her own. She dreaded waking up and facing the awkward silence between her and Drizzt. And the other two. Surely he'd told them. Feeling just about as pathetic as she could, Andra sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, wanting to get it over with and get on the road back to normal. But, to her immense relief, she was alone. More or less. The three of them were busy packing up camp.

All she got was her hair ruffled by Wulfgar as he passed by, a bundle of cloth tucked under his arm. "Morning, fox."

Andra stared after him for a few minutes before she decided she liked her new nickname. She looked around the camp and spotted Drizzt immediately. But he didn't look her way. She was almost sure, for a split second, that he must have seen her from the corner of his eye. But he didn't look. He was engrossed in the act of belting down gear to his saddle, something so simple for him that it definitely should not take that much concentration.

Andra turned her eyes down. This was worse than the awkward. The bad thing, though, was that she preferred it.

Andy stood up abruptly, not bothering to help by rolling up her sleeping bag. She'd get it later or something. She stalked away and went to climb one of the sloping hills that surrounded the campsite. Nobody'd notice really.

At the top, she found with pleasure that she couldn't see the campsite, or feel its inescapable presence behind her turned back. The hill was tall and clear, with no trees growing on its very top, and afforded her a view of the surrounding forest. She was cut-off up here. Like when you go in your room and shut the door: it seals you into your own little box separate from the rest of the world. If the door's open, you can hear everything from outside, maybe even see a glimpse of it as someone passes in the hallway. Intrusive, it spills into your haven like the dim light it carries. But Andra's door was closed right now. Her own little box.

She stared out over the beautiful hills and trees, lit in growing amber from the rising sun, and nearly felt herself closed off. But sound carries very well out on open fields, and she could still hear mumbles of their voices from behind, reminding her that she _had_ no door to close. Andra winced in annoyance. She fumbled in her pocket, searching for her iPod. _'…Drizzt has it. Crap.'_

But she needed her music. It was one of those moods where you have to have music—you have to feel some emotion that's not yours, because yours royally suck. She hoped they wouldn't be able to hear her if she sang. 'Cause she needed to. "There's an—" Too loud; they'd hear that. She started again, softer. "There's an old wind…"

She glanced over her shoulder, took a few more steps away from camp. Looking out again at the sunrise and landscape, she nearly forgot all about shut doors and paranoia and loss. Because that sunrise was perfect. Picture perfect. "There's an old wind, and it blows through…Every sunlit song when I'm with you." Wow, she loved singing. This was her own song, and her own emotion, but she still loved it. She could get lost here.

"These my old friends—Fantasy, Dream.

And while the world goes ever sewing at its seams,

Here I am…far away."

"Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass."

Suddenly torn from her glassy distance, Andra gasped, spinning around to see Drizzt standing on the other side of the small hill. He had his hands stuck in his pockets, one headphone of her iPod trailing from his ear, and the slightest smile resting on his lips.

"You are Scottish, right? Your ancestry? You told Chase once."

She gaped at him for several stunned heartbeats. "You…You _creeper_. How long've you been there?"

Drizzt shrugged. "I list'nd till I had my fill," he both answered and recited. Andra stared at him curiously, so he held up her iPod and explained, "Something called Classic Poetry Aloud.* You've got as much poetry as music in this thing."

Andra nodded dumbly, still trying to forget the embarrassment as having being heard. She recognized the words—he was quoting _The Solitary Reaper._ But he was also creeping in the bushes. She glared at him dully. "Drop any good eaves lately, Samwise Gamgee?"

Strangely, Drizzt's confused stare didn't make her want to laugh. She didn't feel like explaining the reference, so she just motioned to the iPod in his hand and changed the subject. "You like it, huh?"

He closed the distance between them, soft smile returning. "I can't tell what I like more. William Wordsworth, or how perfectly his name suits his profession."

A tentative smile broke through her blankness. "…You noticed, too," she mumbled. Drizzt nodded. Nobody had ever found that little fact as amusing as she did. "You like poetry?" He nodded again as he handed her the iPod. But his smile was fading. He just stared at her, searching with growing profundity, until she wished to high heaven he would speak what was on his mind. He didn't seem to be able to find the right words.

Finally, he said simply, "Will no one tell me what she sings?"

Andra suspiciously wondered if he was only just reciting. She doubted it.

"Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow  
For old, unhappy, far-off things,  
And battles long ago."

"Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day?" He paused as Andra's eyes dropped to the ground. Sensing he was getting somewhere, he went on gently, "Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain…"

Andra looked up, meeting his eyes, and was slightly surprised to find gentle sadness and guilt there.

"That has been…and may be again."

Andy laughed and looked away again, shaking her head. "The words are easy for you. It means you love poetry." Drizzt didn't respond; his unspoken question still hung in the air, unanswered and lonely. Andra huffed a sigh and looked back out at the sunrise.

"I am sorry. You need not, if I'm overstepping boundaries."

Andra absently smiled. Now she had to give him something. To reward him for having manners. He knew it, too, the little weasel.

She didn't look at him as she spoke. "Did…you know Raylin?"

Drizzt blinked, confused again. "Well, some. I…knew Orpheus. Anyone who knew him knew Raylin."

She glanced at him, momentarily caught up in imagining a friendship between drow and nymph. The Nymph are like surface elves, right? A little? Friends with a dark elf. It must have been a wonderfully ironic thing. Anyway, she'd been asking something. "What were they like?"

Alright. This was random. But he'd only find out where it was heading if he played along. "Well. Raylin, from what I knew, was…bright, I suppose? Yes. Youthful, and bright. She was so easily amused, and by the tiniest little things. A bird on a fencepost could make her day. But she got stubborn and childish when she wanted her way. She never compromised. Her moronic father probably cursed her with that."

"And Orpheus…" Drizzt began, hesitant suddenly. He didn't like remembering Orpheus in the same way he didn't like remembering Regis. But he could hardly tell her _no_. "Orpheus was…gentle. Quiet. But he was strong, and you could tell it—that came out when he needed it to. He was such a nymph; it was so much a part of him. He wore his heritage like a fading badge... He loved music, naturally. Made me sing with him all the time." He laughed quietly, but his were slowly clouding over, longing and far away. She half expected him to start singing, and she wished he would—sing in his beautiful rainsong voice, quietly, full of emotions she couldn't see otherwise. Something he once sang with Orpheus.

But Drizzt only spoke again. "He had this…nymphish streak of mischief, when he was in a good mood. Crazy in a fight. _Crazy_—he'd catch afire in a fight. Maybe like...Salvatore's version of me. I don't know." He stopped there for a moment, shaking his head, and Andy could tell he was hitting his own nerves.

Now it was Andra who stared at him, while Drizzt looked off into the sunrise. He spoke so fondly of Orpheus, but there was a sour note to it. Something like jealousy, but diluted by loss and friendship. 'Salvatore's version of me…' That phrase stood out clearly to her. And after a moment of rolling it over in her mind, she was pretty sure she knew.

He was a replacement, too.

Wordlessly, Andra followed his gaze to the rising sun. Neither spoke for several minutes. And then Andra put a hand in her pocket, pulling out her iPod. She stuck one headphone in her ear and reached up to put the other one in Drizzt's. He glanced at her curiously, but she didn't explain. She tapped something from the music list, slid the device back into her pocket, and looked pointedly back at the pale-golden sky.

Immediately, Drizzt smiled. He turned his gaze back to the sunrise and they both stood in silence, listening to the iPod as the Classic Poetry Aloud guy recited _The Solitary Reaper._

"…_I list'nd till I had my fill;  
And, as I mounted up the hill,  
The music in my heart I bore  
Long after it was heard no more."_

"…Orpheus never did take to poetry," Drizzt mumbled. "I always loved it."

Andra released a deep breath. The forest sunrise brought with it a feeling of newness, of somehow letting go, being cleansed. It is the traditional symbolism of the sunrise, depending on imagery, and if the author wants it so, to carry such emotions along on its feathery clouds. This was not a storybook sunrise, though it matched every sky Salvatore's drow had ever sat and watched, in the days when he walked the surface alone. Somehow it was the same, and somehow, it was still new. It was original. It was theirs.

"Yeah," Andy answered at length. "Me too."

….

"**And now we're grown-up orphans**

**That never knew our names.**

**We don't belong to no one—that's a shame.**

**You can hide beside me,**

**Maybe for a while.**

**And I won't tell no one your name."**

At first, Andra had sort of wished they'd give her a horse and teach her how to ride. She'd need to learn eventually; in this world it was like driving. Except you didn't need a license, and most kids here learned to ride a horse at the age Earth kids were taking the training wheels off their bikes. But, as they stood on the edge of the cliff, staring out over the valley in which was settled the great dwarven stronghold, Andra was glad to be able to hide in Drizzt's cloak.

She clung close to him, fists clenched on handfuls of the forest green fabric. She was slowly falling in love with that cloak. She loved it more than her own, which she was wearing again today. It was extremely windy up on the high mountain overlooking Mithral Hall's valley. It had changed a little from the way it was in the book. From where she was, she could see a few double doors along the great stone wall. They were huge, but tiny compared to the magnificent gates—closed right now. There were tiny figures of dwarves far below, swarming around wagons and war-machines. Organized chaos.

"It's much more to look at from the inside," Wulfgar's voice said from the side. His horse passed them, with Cattie-Brie following. Catt tossed her a wry wink. They started down the trail cut into the mountainside. It was steep, windy, and rocky, but wide enough for caravans to travel.

Drizzt glanced over his shoulder. Andra's eyes were locked on the giant metal gates, far below at the valley floor. "You ready?"

Andra swallowed hard, licking her dry lips. Her fists tightened on Drizzt's cloak. "Yeah."

"…Andra."

"Yeah?"

"You're choking me."

"Oh—!" Andy let go immediately. He pulled at the cloak's string where it was tied at his neck. "Sorry…" Andy muttered.

But then, Drizzt laughed, the precious sound sweeping away (most of) her timidness and fear. "Come on, Andy. Your kingdom awaits."

"…Yeah."

Drizzt kicked the horse forward. Andy used it as a distraction to grab onto his cloak again. Mithral Hall sat far below, waiting like a milestone or a deadline to be met. They started down the sloping trail, and as they descended lower into the valley, the only thing she could think of was how hard it would be to get back out.

* * *

*A/N: OHMAN! Don't you guys just hate it? Just like me to take them all the way to Mithral Hall and then leave them at the door. ]

*I can't take credit for this quote. About the drowning thing. John Lennon said that.

* classicpoetryaloud .com is an **awesome** site where you can download free podcasts of classic poetry readings. Disclaimer: Classic Poetry Aloud and the poems there don't belong to me.

***Lyric headings:** "I Belong" by Pete Yorn, "Anywhere" by Evanescence, "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls, "I'm With You" by Avril Lavigne, and "Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls.


End file.
